Crux Ferimus
by Nroque18
Summary: Ever since I was a kid, I've always wanted to be "a hero of justice" - but never had I really thought about what that stupid childhood dream would entail. Now, I wish I hadn't jumped at the call when the Templars rang, but past regrets won't help me now - not when I'm smack dab in the middle of a secret war. My name is Chase Mercer, and this is the story of the cross I now bear.
1. Prologue - Tier 1

As I opened the door to my house, I let out an exhausted sigh as I set my heavy backpack against the wall of the living room. I then vaulted over the couch's back and landed onto its soft cushions to see if there was anything good on TV. Reaching for the remote sitting on the coffee table, I pressed the power button, and the screen flashed to life.

"…In world news, the Japanese Self-Defense Forces are maintaining a heavily guarded perimeter around the site of last month's terrorist attack. The Japanese government has stated than an unidentified radical political group released a biological agent in the Tokyo subway, less than a kilometer from Orochi Tower. Although the area has been evacuated, there have been eyewitness reports of activity inside the perimeter, including ongoing fighting between Orochi security personnel and armed civilians. Authorities are denying these reports, and the military has barred anyone from approaching one hundred meters of the temporary perimeter…"

I sighed as I turned off the TV from the kitchen counter, leaving me alone with just my thoughts and the half-made sandwich in front of me. It had been about two weeks since the Tokyo Incident, as everyone called it, yet it didn't seem as if the investigation had made any progress. Just what was the police doing in there? Watching anime?

Well, there were more pressing concerns for me at the moment. Placing the last slice of bread on my turkey and cheese sandwich, I then took a bite out of it as I left the kitchen to grab my backpack and do my homework. About halfway up the stairs to my room, I thought I could hear something buzzing, but as I looked around, I didn't see any bee, nor did I hear any more of the buzzing. Shrugging my shoulders, I then continued the climb up to my room, but in the back of my mind, I thought I could still hear the buzzing.

* * *

In the darkness, I drifted aimlessly in the void as I heard something rasp in the back of my mind. The rasp then grew clearer, until I realized that there were multiple voices, and they only grew in clarity until I could clearly make out the words of the legion.

_"__You will see the end of days… You will see the dawning of a new age…"_

I felt something wet drip onto my forehead, and I opened my eyes to see that raindrops were falling down onto my face. Strangely enough, the sky above me had no rainclouds - only stars. As I shifted my position slightly, I thought I could feel something hard digging into my back. I moved my hands to the ground I was lying down on, and I felt my fingers touch gravel and pebbles.

I groaned in exhaustion as I propped myself up onto my elbows and then got onto my feet. As I looked up from stretching out the kinks in my body, I thought I could hear the sounds of waves lapping against the gravel, and I looked up to see the black waters of the night ebb and flow against the pebbles of the beach. Above the horizon was a shattered moon, and asteroids swirled above me in the air. "Damn... I'm tripping serious balls here..."

_"To be a monarch, or a beggar… To lose everything, or to become a god… To stand with us, or against us… The choice is yours… Remember this…"_

I blinked once, and I recoiled in a shock as a boy suddenly appeared a few feet in front of me. He wasn't just _any_ boy, though - in fact, he was a mirror image of myself. Like me, he was wearing a black jacket, along with dark gray jeans and black sneakers. He even had my slightly long, but neat black hair right, but what really unnerved me were the dark eyes that lacked the luster of life in them. Then he opened his mouth to speak in _my _voice.

"Be mindful of the voices. They will whisper in your sleep. You are with the chosen, but you must choose for yourself, for you are cursed with free will. It is not my place to intervene, but then again…" The corners of the other me's lips curled up into what could be considered a small smile as he spread his arms out wide. "This is all just a dream."

As he spoke, my eyes were inexorably drawn to his shoes, and its material began to flake off like burning pieces of paper. As each piece rose into the air, it metamorphosed into a buzzing bee, and the swarm grew bigger as more of his body burned away. "Make the right choices, and be mindful of the voices, for they corrupt."

Before I could ask him what the now-legless torso meant by that, the bees began to swarm around me. I felt my feet begin to leave the ground, and as I looked up from seeing that it was true, the other me was nowhere to be seen. I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my body, as if I had been stabbed through the back with a white-hot sword. As I opened my mouth to scream, the bees began to fly towards my mouth, and as the first one made its way down my throat…

* * *

I catapulted my head from the pillow, sitting upright on my bed as I clutched at my throat, coughing and gasping for breath. As my breathing calmed down, I looked around and took comfort in the familiar surroundings of my bedroom. I swallowed, and my throat felt raw as my spit traveled downwards. "All just a dream, Chase… It was all just a dream…"

I glanced at the clock to see that it was six in the morning - time to get ready for school. Getting out from under the covers, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, and I shivered slightly in the cold of the morning. As I reached for the black pullover draped over the bedpost, I thought my hand felt slightly warm, but I dismissed the feeling. Well, right up until the moment when my hoodie burst into flames as my fingertips brushed against the fabric.

I recoiled in shock as the flames enveloping my black hoodie glowed a bright blue atop the bedpost, but strangely, it didn't seem to be burning. I stared at the burning pullover in a mix of shock and awe before I regained my wits, and I hesitantly reached for the pullover, despite, you know, _logic_. The blue flames licked at my hand, but all I could feel was a glowing warmth, and no burning sensation, and as I grasped the cloth, the fire went out.

"Did… that just happen?" I wondered aloud as I pulled the hoodie over my head. It felt nice and warm on my body, as if it had just come back fresh from the ironing board. Dismissing the thought with a shake of my head, I got up to go to the bathroom.

As I gargled with mouthwash in the bathroom after brushing my teeth, I spat the minty green liquid out, and I saw something glisten in the sink.

A pair of delicate bee's wings.


	2. Prologue - Tier 2

It was so cold, that third afternoon after the dream. I sat in a corner of my room, shivering despite the fact that it was late spring. It was the first break I had gotten during the past few minutes, and I hugged my knees to my chest. My breathing was shallow, and my heart was beating fast as my teeth chattered from both cold and fear. As nothing happened, I began to relax a little, and that's when I began to rise off the floor.

My skin itched as I felt the heat within my body grow to unbearable temperatures. Just before my vision went white, I saw my entire body burst into blue flames. I screamed hoarsely as I felt the backs of my throat and eyeballs burn as if hot coals had been stuffed within, and I reared my head backwards towards the ceiling. Then I felt the soles of my bare feet hit the floor, and I barely managed to keep myself from falling over.

As I steadied myself against the wall, I looked up to see that my room had been turned into a war zone in a matter of seconds. My stuff lay scattered all over the floor, and I sighed in both resignation and relief. After I had finished putting everything back where they belonged, I went to the door and touched the doorknob with an unharmed hand, hissing in pain as I felt yet another electric shock pass through my hand. As I walked through the hallway and opened the door to the bathroom, getting another electric shock in the process, I took a look at myself in the mirror.

My hair looked like a rat's nest and my eyes were wild, but other than that, I looked perfectly fine. Turning on the metal faucet and receiving an electric shock for the umpteenth time, I splashed myself with water and ran a hand down my face. I stopped my hand in its path as I looked up at the mirror, where a single dark eyes stared back at me, the other obscured by fingers. Just what was I turning into?

I sighed as I looked down at my fingers gripping the edge of the sink, and an idea came to mind. Looking up at the man in the mirror with newfound determination, I then reached for the hand towel hanging on the nearby wall. Rubbing my face dry before throwing the towel over my shoulder, I then snapped my fingers, and a blue fireball burst into life, burning above my palm. As I clenched my fingers around the fireball in a fist, blue flames escaped from the gaps between my fingers, and in their light, I smiled grimly. It was time for me to get to work.

* * *

Two days later, I had settled into my new daily routine: wake up, go to school, and practice using my newfound powers. Sure, my bedroom was now a complete mess thanks to the fireballs I had been hurling around, but to be honest, I was having too much fun to care. Snapping my fingers, a blue fireball burst into flame and burned above my palm, and I tossed it into the air. Reaching out to where the fireball would land with my other hand, I began to toss it back and forth between my hands like a tennis ball.

As the fireball landed in my right hand once again, I willed the flames to crawl up my sleeve as I did an arm wave. I smiled to myself as I felt the now-friendly warmth of the fire move across the cloth atop my shoulder blades to my other hand. As the flames reached their destination, I held my hand up in the air to gaze in awe as they burned bright blue and licked the air with a merry crackling. Now humming to the tune of "The Power" by Snap!, I snuffed out the flames by clenching my fist.

As I rested my hand atop the wooden bedpost, I felt the temperature of the surrounding air grow colder, but it didn't bother me. Within a minute, a thin layer of white frost had formed on the bedpost, and I removed my hand to see that my palm glittered as if sprinkled with diamonds. Rubbing my hands together to warm them back up as well as dry them, I then focused on the tingling sensation on the back of my hand, the kind that made your hairs stand on end. Sure enough, a glowing blue tendril of electricity began to sprout from my hand like a vine, and as I brought my other hand up next to it, the electricity leapt to the other fingertips.

The electricity began to slither up and down my body like a glowing snake, and wherever it went, I could feel my skin tingle and my hairs stand on end. Finally the electricity spiraled back up to my hand, where I quickly seized hold of it in order to absorb it back into my body. I curled and extended my fingers in order to get rid of the numbness in my extremities, and I was surprised at the lack of damage to my hand, considering that it had been set on fire, frozen solid, and used to conduct electricity within the space of half an hour or so.

As I put my hand down, I could feel my knees suddenly grow weak, and I quickly grasped the bedpost to keep myself from collapsing onto the floor. As I regained my balance, I brushed the remaining frost off my hands, and I realized just how _exhausted _I actually was. "Whew… That took a lot more out of me than I thought it would… Probably a good time to take a break…"

* * *

The next day, I had moved practice to the living room, as it had more room. As long as I kept the curtains closed, no one would be able to see me playing with fire through the windows. As much fun as my powers could be, I wished that I could share my secret with someone without having to worry about being called a freak, or worse, getting dissected in some lab. I was debating about letting Mom in on my powers, but at the moment, I was still on the fence.

Now, I'll admit, I got a little cocky with my powers, and it occurred to me that _maybe_ I could handle juggling multiple fireballs at once. Not a good idea, as you can expect, and I found out that while my blue fire might not be able to harm _me, _it was quite capable of burning other things, if I wasn't careful enough.

After a panicky minute of trying desperately to beat out the flames, the fire had finally gone out, leaving behind a large black burn on the side of the carpet. I breathed a sigh of relief at the thought of not having to lie to Mom about why her favorite rug was burnt to a crisp, and then an icy hand of fear gripped my heart as I heard the doorbell ring. I froze in shock - Mom couldn't be back already from her business trip, could she?

Picking up a lamp which I had knocked over and setting it upright, I walked over nervously to the front door and peered through the peephole. There was a stranger there - a woman with dark eyes and equally dark hair that was cut just above her shoulders. She was wearing a white pantsuit that must've been a pain to keep clean, but what got my attention was the necklace around her throat. It was in the shape of a cross - kind of like the ones the Knights Templars used back during the Crusades.

My hand hesitated for a moment as it reached for the doorknob, and then I opened the door for her, trying my best to smile welcomingly and not act like I had been caught at a bad time. The woman nodded politely, and then she spoke in a slight Hispanic accent. "Good afternoon. Are you Chase Mercer?"


	3. Prologue - Tier 3

"Uh… Yeah, that's me…" I said, wondering who the heck this woman was. The stranger paid no attention to me as she tilted her head, glancing over my shoulder at the mess I had made. Her eyes lingered on what must've been the burn on the carpet, and then refocused on me, her eyes taking on a new light. "Bee problem?"

"No… at least, not anymore." I admitted, and the woman nodded. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, but that didn't seem to faze the stranger. "Alright, first thing's first - you know me, but I don't know you. Just who are you?"

The woman shrugged off the question. "My name is of no importance - you most likely won't see me again after today. I represent an organization headquartered in London - a very large organization with branches across the globe and connections in every government. We pull strings - big strings. Prime ministers, presidents, kings…"

The stranger trailed off, and her face grew more serious. I belatedly realized that my jaw was hanging slightly open, and I embarrassedly shut my trap. "Dark days are coming. The world is in turmoil, and we're recruiting. Soldiers, agents, adventurers, _crusaders_… We offer good terms: a fresh start, a network unlike any other, unlimited resources, a fantastic medical plan, and a way to harness and use your incredible powers."

I unconsciously looked down at my hands, and when I looked up, I noticed that the stranger's eyes had been a moment too late in following my gaze. "It may be a big transition, but look at it this way: this is a unique opportunity. You have been chosen. You have been granted powers beyond what most can imagine. So you can either become an outcast in a world that will never understand or accept what you've become, or you can join others like you. You can take a stand with them against the rising darkness, and embark on a journey into the unknown, into the hidden places, into the secret world."

"There are… other like me?" I asked almost fearfully, and the woman nodded. Excitement began to grow within me, as if I were a kid again, entrusted with a big secret. It was a lot to take in - I didn't know what to say, and so I stared at my bare feet, watching as my toes curled themselves up. Luckily for me, the woman took control of the conversation again.

"You don't have to make a decision now - the choice, as we're so fond of saying, is entirely yours." The woman said gently, which did nothing to soothe the sudden uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach brought on by her warning stare. "But know this: your emerging powers will attract plenty of attention, and not everyone is as… _accommodating _as we are, even to ones as young as yourself. On your own, you'll be easy prey. You might not even last the week."

"And if I do decide to take the proverbial red pill?" I asked, and in response, the woman handed me an envelope, complete with a red wax seal bearing the same cross symbol as her necklace.

"If you do, then this will tell you what you need to do. There are instructions inside. Use it or don't use it - it's your prerogative. Either way, you won't see me again. I trust you'll make the right decision." The woman said.

"Thank you." I said, and once again, I was at a loss for words. The stranger spared me the embarrassment of trying to find something to say by nodding in acknowledgement. She turned on her heel and walked down the front steps towards the car parked in front of the house - a sedan whose only remarkable feature was its light gray paint job.

Just as she was about to get inside the Anonymobile, she paused for a moment before calling out to me still standing in the doorway. "By the way, our organization is called the Templars. You may have heard of us. We've been around a while. Good day."

I returned the stranger's parting raise of a hand with my own, and as she got into the car and drove off, I was left alone with the letter in my hand. Turning the envelope over and over in my fingers, I rushed back inside the house, closing the door behind me as I did so as I tore the envelope open with shaking hands.

* * *

The next day after school, I was in the living room again, about to start practicing with my powers. No sooner had I snapped my fingers to conjure up my first blue flames of the day, however, that the living room landline began to ring. Quickly extinguishing the fireball burning above my palm by clenching my fist, I walked over to the phone and picked it up. "Hello?"

A slightly tired, but gentle voice answered on the other end of the line. "Hey, honey. How are you?"

"Just great, Mom." I answered. "So how has your business trip been?"

Mom and I continued our conversation, though I sensed that there was more to this phone call than just checking up on me to see how I was doing. "So, did anything interesting happen during your trip?"

"Well, actually…" Mom began - I could just imagine her pursing her lips. "I received an email mentioning your name just a few days ago. Something about traveling overseas for the summer to… London, I think."

"Oh yeah, I remember receiving that letter not too long ago. Apparently, I've been invited to attend a summer program over at the University of London." Hey, at least it was _partially _true. "I talked to one of their representatives - it seems legit."

"I see…" Mom said thoughtfully. "I thought it was a scam at first, but then I managed to get in touch with one of their representatives in England - a Mr. Richard Sonnac, if I remember right. He was very polite, and he seemed very interested in you."

"Really? I know the program's super exclusive, but… wow…" I said, tapping my finger on the receiver. Now we had arrived at the Big Question. "So… can I go, Mom? Please?"

"I dunno, Chase - it's pretty expensive…" Mom said with a sigh, and I visualized her scratching the back of her head, just underneath where she usually kept her dark hair neatly clipped up.

"I know, I know - a four-figure sum's nothing to sneeze at. But please, Mom? This is a great opportunity for me! I'll be able to see the world like I've always wanted! And do you really want to turn these guys down after they've gone through the trouble of contacting us personally?"

Mom chuckled a little before answering. "Alright, Mr. Enthusiastic, I can see how much you care about this. Alright, you'll get your trip to England - I'll call Mr. Sonnac again to let him know you're going. I think the experience will be good for you."

On the other end of the line, I could hear Mom laugh out loud as I whooped it up in the living room. "YES! Thanks, Mom! You won't regret it! I promise!"

As I brought the landline's receiver back down to my ear, I could hear Mom's laughter dying down. "We'll talk about the details when I get home. I love you, Chase."

"Love you too, Mom." I answered, and with that, Mom ended the phone call, leaving behind a droning tone in the living room.


	4. London Calling

The last few weeks of school passed by in the blink of an eye as they were consumed by the blue blaze conjured up by hours of solitary after-school practice. Before I knew it, I was already stepping outside the jetway into one of London Heathrow Airport's many gates, with nothing but my backpack and a single roll-along suitcase.

Being fifteen, it was my first time traveling alone, and so I was a bit nervous as I claimed my baggage and cleared customs. As I made my way out of the terminal and onto the curb where cars picked up new arrivals, I spotted a London taxi with its yellow roof light on. The cab slowed down as I held out a hand for it to stop, and as it idled near the curb, I placed my suitcase inside the trunk. As I climbed into the backseat, the middle-aged driver looked over his shoulder at me. "Where to, sir?"

"Will you take me to Ealdwic?" I asked, and the cabbie smiled beneath his graying mustache. We drove for most of the next hour, and I quickly became lost in London's streets. Finally, the hackney carriage parked itself in front of a police barricade in what seemed to be one of the older sections of the city.

"Sorry, sir, but this seems to be as far as I can take you." The cabbie apologized as I paid him his fare. As I did so, I noticed that he was wearing a cross-shaped ring on his finger. "Best of luck to you, sir."

As I shouldered my backpack and alighted from the car with my suitcase, the black cab drove off, leaving me alone save for the two bobbies guarding the barricade. I swallowed nervously as I saw their bulletproof vests and submachine guns, but nevertheless, I walked as confidently as I could towards the barrier. Predictably, one of them held up a hand to stop me. I didn't particularly like the way this particular cop looked at me. "Sorry! Can't let kiddies like you through without proper authorization."

Keeping down my indignation at being called a "kid," I reached into my pocket and pulled out the letter the Templars had given me, and I held it out for them to inspect. A puzzled look replaced the policeman's sneer. "I don't know what that's supposed to be, but it's not…"

An arm then appears over my shoulder, flashing a badge to the two guards. Startled, I looked over my shoulder to see a woman dressed in a black coat standing behind me. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was just beginning to go gray, but her strict face made no room for argument. "Alright, lads. Inspector Shelley - the lad's with me."

Without another word, Inspector Shelley seized my arm and dragged me past the policemen. As we reached a safe distance away, Inspector Shelley let go of me, and I massaged my bicep - the old lady had quite the grip. "Do us both a favor and don't go flashing that letter around out here. The boys on the cordon haven't been briefed. As far as they're concerned, this is all just 'heightened awareness' after the terrorist attack in Tokyo."

She then looked me in the eye, and she watched my eyes like a hawk hunting for prey. "But I don't deal with the bureaucracy. I deal with the truth - about the secret London, about the Templars."

"So you know about the Templars, huh?" I asked rhetorically. Inspector Shelley nodded as she gave me the old once-over, and her frown deepened as her eyes focused on my face.

"Aye, that I do, and speaking of them - aren't you a little young to be joining up, Mister...?"

"Mercer - Chase Mercer." I answered, and I considered her question for a moment before continuing. "And I guess I'm a little young, but… they promised that they could help me control my powers."

Inspector Shelley saved me the trouble by beckoning for me to lean in closer, as I did so, her face softened so that it appeared almost… motherly. "I'd say I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, but you have no idea. Even I only get as involved as I have to, for the sake of us little people. You've seen it on the news? The Tokyo Incident?"

I nodded, and Inspector Shelley continued. "That's what happens when your new crowd lets things get out of hand." She then raised a warning finger and jabbed it towards my face. "Not here - not on my watch. That's the deal - that's always been the deal."

I found myself unable to respond as Inspector Shelley straightened up. "Go see one of the 'prophets' up the road by the tube station. They'll fill you in on the kind of crazy you've got ahead of you. Best be prepared."

With that, Inspector Shelley turned around, and as she walked back to the barricade, she called to me over her shoulder as she waved goodbye. "My sincerest condolences!"

"Th-Thank you!" I called out as I waved back, and turning around, I adjusted my backpack before setting off into the unknown.

* * *

As I made my way up the street and past the station, I entered a small square, where a homeless street-preacher wearing a hand puppet of a king stood on a crate. On the surface, he looked just like any other beggar, with his mismatched clothes, scarves, and pin-on buttons. He wore a set of headphones beneath his orange trapper cap, and opaque sunglasses that wouldn't look out of place in a photo of John Lennon concealed his eyes. A couple of people were standing around, listening to him, and as I drew closer, I could hear him speak in a high-pitched voice as the arms of his puppet waved around.

"Too late to start recycling!" Father Hobo says in the "puppet's" voice. He giggled a little like a kid before continuing. "Too late to go to raves to save the gorillas! To cash out those Anansi shares! There's a storm coming, _mondo _storm! Paint your glass houses shut!"

Father Hobo paused before holding up the back of his free hand next to his mouth in an aside much deeper than the "puppet's" voice. "You don't have to take his word for it. This is a warning from the sun. It says it's old, tired, and scared of death! It says you've lived as young gods for too long - spoiled children who only need to wish for something, and it'll come true! Well, those days are gone now and won't be here again!"

Father Hobo cackled as he and his puppet turned their heads around to look at each other. "Sorry!"

Though I couldn't confirm my suspicions due to his glasses, Father Hobo's eyes seemed to focus on me for a moment. Then, he turned his head towards the puppet, and then nodded before continuing on with his sermon. "I'll show you how it all goes down, through the medium of unreliable narration. A vision of the future! This could be your lucky day!"

Father Hobo paused to smile at his puppet before speaking in a softer voice. "Tomorrow and all the ones after… not so much."

Father Hobo then lowered his puppet completely, and turns to the crowd, though every few seconds, I could feel his eyes focus on me. "It's a hot wet day… Ever notice how the apocalypse always comes out on a wet day?"

Off in the distance, I heard the distant rumble of thunder, though my eyes glanced up and told me that it was a clear day.

"There's the smell of warm air and stale piss…" At this, the smell suddenly entered my nostrils, and my stomach gurgled unpleasantly as it threatened to reacquaint me with the airplane food I had for breakfast.

The atmosphere is electric. I mean, _actually _electric, sparking off the tracks, lifting and snapping your hair." As Father Hobo spoke, I felt a tingle on my skin familiar to me after hours of practice at home.

"A voice over the speakers that you don't hear - you _itch_." I felt my hand reaching up to scratch the back of my head, but I resisted the urge to do so. Then the prophet spoke his next words.

"The black signal sounds…" My vision began to swim as I felt myself losing my balance. I staggered like a drunk, and my feet missed the pavement, hitting the ground on my side. Even as I began to black out, I stayed conscious long enough to hear the prophet's last words: "Light's out!"


	5. Ground Zero - Tier 1

As I regained consciousness, I opened my eyes to see… darkness. I blinked once, but other than that, I couldn't even feel the rest of my body. Then I heard a moan so close that it could have only come from myself. Though I may have been just a passenger inside my own body, I could still take in my surroundings well enough with closed eyes. The London asphalt beneath me had been replaced with cold tiles, and I somehow sensed that I was indoors.

Most noticeable of all, however, was the foul smell wafting into my nostrils. Once again, my stomach warned me with a menacing rumble that I was going to meet my breakfast again very soon, and I sent a mental message for it to shut up as the voice of a young woman spoke from outside the darkness. "It's all shut down. Kaidan-cho, everything - from the park to Orochi Tower."

Rose White, Templar. Wait, how did I know that? Before I could ponder too deeply, another voice spoke up, this one belonging to another woman about the same age. Somehow, I knew it belonged to Mei Ling - an agent of… the Dragon? "SDF quarantine - good news for Tokyo, bad news for us."

"I thought the Dragon thrived on chaos." A man's deep voice said in a British accent - Alex McCall, a member of the Illuminati.

Mei Ling shot back immediately. "Someone once told me the Illuminati had all the answers."

Suddenly, my eyes - my _real _ones - flew open like shutters, and my body began to move on its own. Only it wasn't _my _body - it was someone else's. The skin was too dark, and I didn't own the blue and white jacket. It was then I realized that I was in someone else's body, and the geeky side of me wondered if I had been hooked up to an Animus in my sleep to view someone else's memories.

The eyes looked up to see three people standing nearby: two girls, one guy. One of the girls had platinum blonde hair, and she wore a red vest over a white fuzzy sweater with a shotgun slung across her shoulders. The other woman was definitely Asian, and the tattoos across her body glowed with magical energy as she gripped the hilt of her sheathed katana - a freaking _katana!_ The only guy in the trio - Alex McCall, I assumed - was in a trench coat and desperate need of personal grooming.

The eyes then began to gaze all around the room, and I managed to get a good look around. I guessed that we were in some kind of public building, and the unfamiliar characters written everywhere in sight just screamed that I was in Japan. If the circumstances were different, I might have let my inner otaku squee to its heart's content, but now was the time. As I - or rather, _Sarah_ \- looked around, I thought it was a mall at first, but then I saw the arrows, reminding me of the time when I had visited New York and its subways, back when I was too young to be left home alone during Mom's business trips.

If I still had my eyes, they would've widened in shock as I realized that I was lying right in the middle of ground zero for the Tokyo Incident. If that was true, then I must be seeing things from a few weeks ago. Rose was then kind enough to confirm my fears. "They're saying it's a bomb… It's _never_ just a bomb."

Mei Ling nodded as she pointed at something moving on the floor. It looked like a rope of black tar, about as thick as my arm, and its dark surface glistened like oil. I could even _feel _it pulsing with whatever pale existence it called life. "It's something worse - something that brought the Filth with it."

Rose glared at the strand of Filth creeping across the tile. "So we fight. That's what we Templars do."

"I enjoy a good fight…" Alex began as he tugged on the fabric of his crisp black pants for us to see with his thumb and index finger. "It's just these trousers are bloody velvet."

By this time, my host had stood up, and the others looked in our direction. It was Mei Ling who spoke up. "Sarah! Thank Gaia! How are you feeling?"

As she worked out the kinks in her body and scratched the back of her curly black locks, Sarah answered. "I'll be fine."

"If Zuberi was here, he'd tell us this is the worst time to argue." Mei Ling said as she visibly relaxed.

"Well, he's not." Rose said as she pointed to a set of stairs beyond a heavy metal shutter blocking the path. "He's down there somewhere."

Sarah walked over to where a fallen shotgun lay on the floor near the metal shutters, and picking it up, she pressed a button near the trigger. Then there was movement beyond the shutter, and a woman trips down the bottom stairs. She quickly picks herself up off the floor and begins to bang on the shutters, crying out in Japanese. While I couldn't understand what she was saying - that was what subs were for - it was obvious she was terrified of something chasing her.

Rose was the first to say something as Mei Ling rushed to a nearby control panel. "Open the gate!"

A desperate Mei Ling was doing her best, but it wasn't doing any good. "I'm trying, but it's inside the electrics somehow! The Filth…"

Before she could finish, a man appeared from the stairs behind the woman. His skin was covered with the Filth, and the two tendrils atop his head looked like horns, perfectly matching the positively demonic look in the man's golden eyes as he hunched over like a wild animal. This… _thing_ definitely wasn't human, and I instinctively knew that it was what awaited all who were infected with the Filth - assuming they weren't put out of their misery first. He growled, and that was all the warning the woman ever got before his black claws knocked her down onto the floor.

Zombie-san then pounced onto the woman and began to tear her apart, interrupting her screams, and my "eyes" widened with the rest as they uttered their horror.

"No!" Mei Ling cried out.

"Fuck me…" Alex whispered, barely audible above the man's growls.

Rose's voice was the same volume as Alex's as she spoke. "Oh… my… God…"

As for me, I would've been reacquainted with my breakfast by now if I had a stomach to empty, but at the moment, I'd have to make do with Sarah's stunned silence. With the poor girl dead, Zombie-san leapt back and rushed out of sight. Sarah's head then jerked to the side as she heard something coming from the ventilation shafts. Alex barely had time to utter a warning before Zombie-san then leapt out from the darkness.

"Watch out!"


	6. Ground Zero - Tier 2

Sarah was the first to react, and she brought her shotgun up to fire. There was a loud bang as the shotgun shell found a nice comfy home in Zombie-san's brain matter, and Sarah pumped her shotgun, ejecting an empty shell onto the cold tile. Where there should've been blood, black ooze seeped out from the hole in Zombie-san's forehead.

"Nice shooting!" Rose said, and then she immediately fell silent as more animalistic screams were heard from the vents.

"How many have they got in there?" Alex wondered aloud as a fireball burned above his palm, and as the first Filth-infected zombie emerged from the vent, it got a face full of fire for its trouble. As it fell dead onto the cold tile, more zombies emerged from the vents, and the others leapt into action. As Rose fired her own shotgun into the horde, Mei Ling slashed her katana across the throat of another zombie, taking its head clean off.

As the last of the zombie horde fell to a crescendo of shotgun blasts and magical explosions mixed with the clean sound of a blade slicing through the air, Mei Ling shook her head as the blade of her sword suddenly burst into flame, immolating the filthy goo off of it. "It's gone viral so fast… If this gets out into Tokyo…"

"It doesn't. We stop it here. Whatever it takes." Rose said as she pumped a fresh shell into her shotgun, and the sound of the empty casing hitting the floor only served to punctuate her remark. Mei Ling went back to work on the control panel, and soon, the metal shutters were opened.

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here." Alex said as he passed underneath the shutters, and Rose glared at his back as she followed him.

"Thanks for the encouragement, Alex."

"I was only trying to be realistic." Alex said without looking his shoulder, though I suspected he was smirking.

"Let's do this - take it like all the other occult disasters, right?" Mei Ling said, and the others nodded.

"We really need to stop meeting like this." Alex remarked as he lit another fireball in his hand, and off we went down the first unmoving escalator. As we reached the first landing, the wall to our left exploded, letting in dark fog that obscured the sources of the monstrous howls.

As Sarah and Rose blasted away with their shotguns, Alex hurled fireballs into the darkness as Mei Ling called out over the din. "Don't let it get on you! Don't even breathe it in!"

As the fog faded away, leaving behind the corpses of another horde of zombies, Rose took the time to load her shotgun with more shells. "It's reacting to us, like it knows we're coming."

"This stuff can't think." Alex said. "It's a cancer. Cancer doesn't know you're coming, it just is."

The rest of us fell into silence as the moment's respite ended, and as they walked down the second escalator, they came across another set of metal shutters. Alex chose this moment to say something. "New plan: fight chaos with chaos. Keep the bastards at a distance, then take them out."

Rose rolled her eyes at Alex. "_That's _your plan?"

Alex shrugged. "Well, it's _a _plan."

Rose sighed as she shook her head. She pulled up on the bottom of the metal shutters, sending them up into the roof, and then turned towards me - no, Sarah. "You've got point, Sarah. Make every shot count."

Sarah nodded, and with her shotgun at the ready, she led the way onto the train platform. As the group entered the area, more Filth-infected zombies rushed to meet them. While those at the front were like your typical Leeroy Jenkins as they rushed into the fray, others stayed back at a distance, hurling smoky fireballs at the group. It was the latter that Sarah and Rose focused on, and with every shot, another zombie went down.

Mei Ling covered Sarah and Rose with her katana as Alex provided (literal) fire support, and as the last zombie fell, they regrouped to reload and catch their breath. Mei Ling was the first to speak. "We're gonna need to use some heavier powers. Don't hold back, alright?"

Alex cleared his throat as he straightened up. "I was pacing myself."

Mei Ling then turned towards Sarah as she pointed across the tracks, deeper into the subway. "Listen, Sarah, you have to find Zuberi. We'll hold them here and make a stand. God, I could murder for a strawberry smoothie right about now."

Sarah nods, and she watches the others head towards where more zombie growls could be heard. As she made her way to the tracks, she spotted a wire gate leading to another line, but as she drew a closer, another monster rounded the corner and broke through the gate.

The new mass of Filth was twice Sarah's height, and its golden eyes burned with hatred as it lumbered towards her. Sarah aimed her shotgun at the monster's head, and uttered something in a language I think was Latin as strange carvings began to glow on the pump of her shotgun: _"Spiritus Draconis!"_

As Sarah pulled the trigger, a huge fireball was fired from the barrel of her shotgun, striking the monster head on. The monster roared as it was wreathed in flames, and it smashed the rails with its meaty fists. Sarah leapt backwards away from the monster, and fired another round as her feet hit the ground. The carvings on her shotgun glow once again, and with another shout in Latin, Sarah fired another fireball at the monster.

With a loud cry, the monster fell forwards onto the rails, dead. Stepping past its body, Sarah moved to the other line, where a train stood, derailed. One of its cars still had its doors open, and she climbed inside. As she entered the train car, another set of doors on the far side was blasted open, and a man in a Kevlar vest and a black uniform hit the wall on the opposite side with a groan. Then another man appeared.

Sarah's mind immediately identified him as Zuberi, a powerful Haitian shaman, and I took notice of his features. The man was old and dark-skinned, with gray dreadlocks and a staff tipped with feathers and a skull. "Ah, the cavalry has arrived."

Zuberi then turned his attention to the wounded man Sarah recognized to be one of the Orochi Group's security personnel. "Even where the Filth corrupts, Gaia's power endures. Take it into yourself. Breathe it out. Will this broken body mended."

Sarah nodded as she held out her free hand, and blue mist began to appear around it. The mist shimmered as it descended upon the security guard, whose eyes open and take in Sarah, and then Zuberi. _"Arigatou gozaimasu…"_

Zuberi smiled as the security guard got up to his feet and checked his submachine gun. "Good! But even Gaia will be tested by what is to come."

The conversation was then interrupted by the sound of Rose's voice behind us. "Making a stand… wasn't working out."

Sarah turned around to see the others, all of them looking like they had been in a war zone, which of course, they had. Alex then spoke up as he pointed out the train car's window. "Yeah, about that, this ain't looking too much better, to be honest."

More Filth-infected zombies were shambling about, while filthy tentacles felt around for something to grab. Zuberi shook his head. "Now is not the time for argument!"

As we followed him out of the train car, I thought I heard Mei Ling whisper. "Told you he would say that."

"We must reach the next platform!" Zuberi said, and the rest of us followed him into the fray. As everyone fought with either guns, fire, or steel, we heard a shout from Rose that chilled us.

"The gate's opening!"

Sarah looked to see the metal shutters retract into the ceiling on their own, and Mei Ling called out to us. "I think that's bad news!"

"Yup, definitely bad news!" Mei Ling shouted as she turned her attention to the new wave of zombies along with the rest of us. Everyone unleashed everything they had, but the horde seemed to have no end of reinforcements.

"They're not stopping!" Rose shouted as she pumped her shotgun, and she slammed its stock hard into the head of another zombie who had gotten too close for comfort.

"And they will not stop!" Zuberi answered over the din as he blasted another zombie with magic. "This is all to hold us back!"

"Top marks for effort!" Alex said as one of his fireballs wreathed another zombie in flames.

"Someone has to push through." Zuberi shouted as he struck another zombie with his staff. "This confusion may be all the time we have!"

"Someone?" Mei Ling repeated, and then she turned her head towards Sarah. "Sarah, go!"

Sarah needed no further encouragement, and she sped through the platform and up the escalator on the other side, blasting at whatever she could. She could hear the others - both human and zombie - following her, and as she reached the landing, dust fell from the ceiling above. Rose barely had time to shout out her last warning. "Look out! It's all coming down!"

The ceiling then collapsed between Sarah and the group, and slabs of cement bar the two sides of the landing, leaving no choice for Sarah but to move on ahead without the others. Sarah turned around to see filthy tendrils seeking something to grasp, but she gave them plenty of space as she made her way down the escalators to the next platform. There was a deserted train waiting on the tracks for her, but beyond the rails…

The space beyond the rails reminded me of my dream, and asteroids tumbled as a sun burned off in the distance. I could feel the mix of terror, confusion, and awe going on in Sarah's head as she looked at the sight. She stepped closer to the void, right up to the yellow line separating the platform and the tracks. Then she was struck with a sudden headache, and I felt it too as her vision clouded and she grasped at her aching head.

Sarah then dropped her shotgun, and her body soon joined her weapon on the floor as she fell onto her side in immense pain. Then she blacked out, leaving me all alone in the darkness.


	7. Might Makes Right - Tier 1

Some time later, I regained consciousness, and I groaned as I sat up against the brick storefront I had apparently been dragged to while unconscious. "You look like you've just seen the end of the cosmos, mate."

Startled, I jerked my head to see a dark-skinned woman kneeling besides me. Opaque aviators hid her eyes, and she wore her dark hair in a ponytail, along with an army jacket and dog tags over her street clothes. She stood up and extended a hand towards me, which I grasped to pull myself up. I groaned again as another headache hit me, and I rubbed my temple as I let go of her hand. "How long was I out?"

"Long enough. I found you passed out in front of the Fallen King, so I dragged your arse over here and watched your bags for you." The woman answered. "I know the feeling. We're on the edge of it, and it's time to play your part. Zamira Vata's the name. Me and you, we're blood now, yeah? Templars for the win and all that!"

I shook her hand. "Chase - Chase Mercer. It's nice to meet you."

Zamira frowned slightly as she took a good look at me, hands on her hips. "Looks like you've got some training to do before you're ready for your first kill. You'll wanna do what your letter says: go speak with Sonnac at the Templars' gaff."

Zamira jabbed a thumb down the road. "It's not far - can't miss it. Honest! It's unmissable!"

"Alright, I'll take your word for it." I said as I grabbed the handle of my suitcase. "Hope to see you around sometime!"

Zamira waved back at me as I did so, and so I trudged down the road towards a barricade guarded by police officers and unfamiliar people dressed in red uniforms emblazoned with the Templars' cross. They were speaking quietly amongst themselves, but when I approached, they stopped to look at me. I swallowed nervously beneath their gaze, and I reached into my pocket to pull out the Templars' letter.

One of the Templars beckoned me over, and I handed him the letter. He paused for a moment as he gazed over the envelope, and then nodded. "So you're Chase Mercer, eh? What're you, seventeen?"

"Fifteen, actually - I'm younger than I look." I answered politely, and the Templar shook his head.

"I know we need new blood, but I didn't know we've been reduced to taking schoolchildren out of their classrooms…" The Templar then noticed me watching him. "Anyway, Mr. Sonnac has been waiting for you in his office. You'll want to take a right turn when you get inside Temple Hall."

"Right - best not keep him waiting for much longer." I answered hurriedly as I took the letter back. I set off at a brisk pace into the square blocked off by the barricade, and I whistled as I took in the sights. Water cascaded from the upper bowls of an ornately-carved fountain, and red banners with white crosses hung all around the square. Past the fountain was a huge building with an ornate dome so large, it made me wonder if the Templars were making up for something.

Several armed guards wearing the Templars' uniform stood about in groups, but they didn't bother me as I made my way towards Temple Hall. The inside of the building was made of stone, and was lit by torch sconces mounted on the pillars. I heard voices to my right, and as I turned around, I saw Inspector Shelley acknowledge me with a nod. "Sonnac's waiting just inside."

"Thank you, ma'am." I said as she walked past me, and with my luggage in tow, I walked towards the large twin mahogany doors. They were opened just enough for me to poke my head inside. The office was richly furnished with red decor, and several oil paintings hung on the wall while a large fireplace crackled against a wall. A man in a suit and red tie sits across the room from me at a desk, a frown forming above his black goatee and his dark-skinned brow creasing as he peered at the letter he was writing.

He then looked up to see me poking my head through the doorway, and he smiled as he beckoned. "Ah, come in, come in! I'm very pleased you can follow directions on the back of a card. It is the basis for us getting along famously. Of course, with an establishment like this, we're practically in the yellow pages under 'Crusaders.' Personally, I frown upon architectural bullying, but if one absolutely must throw one's weight around, it pays to erect a cathedral or two."

The man then stood up from his chair and walked over to me, holding out his hand. "Richard Sonnac."

"Chase Mercer." I said, smiling back at him as I shook his hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face."

"The sentiment is shared." Mr. Sonnac said as he let go of my hand and began pacing around the room, hands behind his back. "So… you heeded our call to arms. You have questions, I can furnish you with answers… well, _some _answers."

I glanced around the room before asking my first question. "So... the Templars, huh?"

Mr. Sonnac chuckled. "If I had a penny for every time we've been asked that question… To begin with, you haven't strayed into some atrocious Dan Brown airport paperback…"

I chuckled at that - Mom would've been incensed by the insult to one of her favorite authors. "…or some equally dreadful video game."

I found this considerably less funny. "Hey, _Assassin's Creed _is a great series!"

Mr. Sonnac ignored my outburst. "We are not the Knights Templar - that particular appellation in the… 1300's, along with pageboy haircuts and burnings at the stake. No, we run a twenty-first century…"

Mr. Sonnac trailed off as he looked at the massive Renaissance painting hanging above the fireplace. It depicted the comical scene of an angel stomping on the throat of a demon so hard, its eyes were bugging out of its head. I raised an eyebrow at him as we made eye contact with each other, and Mr. Sonnac shrugged his shoulders.

"Well… let's say a _forward-facing _organization, but one with its strength in ancient bonds of traditions, in loyalty, in blood…" I could already feel my eyes glazing over from the platitudes. "...and to be perfectly frank, in a sizable private army."

Now, _that _is something you can trust! "Our firm guidance is needed to save the world from itself. We have kept the matters of squabbling secret societies and loathsome dimensions discreet…"

Mr. Sonnac's expression then clouded over. "Until the shadows began to peel back across the globe, until these darkest of days came upon us. Now the evidence is on television, for pity's sake!"

"You mean the Tokyo Incident, right?" I asked, and Mr. Sonnac nodded as I continued speaking. "But the TV's been around for what, almost a century? And the news has been around even _longer_. Surely, there've been at least a _few _slip-ups now and then."

"There have, but never on this large a scale." Mr. Sonnac answered. "We are at war. Might will make right, and it will fall upon us to judge the correct application of might. It falls upon you, as a soldier of the Templars."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a sec!" I interrupted. "I came here to learn how to control my powers, not to fight in some secret war! I can barely control my powers, much less fight with them! And I'm pretty sure you got the memo about me being fifteen!"

"We did not bring you to London out of the goodness of our hearts - at least not entirely." Mr. Sonnac said sharply, and I fell silent in embarrassment. "Show us that you have the will, and we can teach you the way, in exchange for a promise of aid. Your remarkable powers can be honed and controlled… at least to a less disastrous effect on property values. But all of this comes at a price - at the moment, we can't afford to pass up on potential recruits."

"I'm sorry, sir." I apologized as I stared at my palms. "But I just don't think I'm cut out to be a soldier, even with fire coming out of my fingertips."

Mr. Sonnac brushed off my apology with a nod as he sat down behind his desk. "That's quite alright - I understand your concerns. We don't expect you to rush into the fray with nothing but a Kalashnikov rifle and C4 strapped to your chest like they do in Africa and the Middle East. No, you'll go through basic training first. There is a private training area that we have reinforced for just that purpose directly down the hall. Leave your bags here - I'll see to it that they're taken to your residence here in London - and come see me afterwards."

"Thank you, sir." I said politely as I took off my backpack and set it down next to my suitcase. As I passed through the doorway, I heard the doors close shut behind me, and I sighed as I began to make my way.


	8. Might Makes Right - Tier 2

"Christ Almighty, we've got our work cut out for us…" I heard Brigadier Lethe muttered as his left eye stared hard at me, the other hidden behind an eyepatch. Despite the fact that he was old and had a brace strapped onto his left leg, the severe scars on his face and the medals on his muscled chest were enough to convince me that he could kick my ass six ways to Sunday. "The Crucible is my house, and in my house, my word is _law_. Forget your mother's teat. From now on, _this _is your home."

Brigadier Lethe swept his arms around "the Crucible," as the Templars called the training grounds. Unlike the rest of Temple Hall, it was made of concrete instead of marble, and every part of the Crucible was entirely practical. There were also monsters I didn't recognize chained up like punching bags or shackled to strong wooden X-frames set up against the back wall, and I briefly wondered if there were _People for the Ethical Treatment of Monsters_ (_PETM_) in the Secret World. "This is where you'll learn to stay alive. You've come here an empty slate. You've potential - that's why you were recruited - but that potential needs _strict _guidance."

Brigadier Lethe then jabbed a finger at me, and then down at my hands. "You're a loaded weapon, lad, and if you don't learn to control yourself and channel your powers, you'll end up hurting yourself _and _others. You have the ability to manifest Anima - your life force - in the physical world. To enhance your strength, your physical attributes, to do _magic _\- martial magic, none of that fairy stuff! We don't _do _magic wands here."

I nodded, and Brigadier Lethe continued, jabbing another finger at me. "Never mind why this power's been awakened in you. You're not the only one, and you're not the chosen one. You're part of an army - _our _army - and from now on, you'll do what you're told. It's the way of the Templars."

Brigadier Lethe then swept his arms around the Crucible again. "Consider this your playground. With the help of a few props, we've done our best to make the environment as realistic as possible. The demons are tied up, but they bleed the same. Of course, it's not like being out on the front lines, but it's close enough. Any questions before we begin, lad?"

"Uh…" My eyes then settled on one of the monsters chained up nearby. It was breathing heavily, like a chained dog eager to attack. "What are those things?" I then thought better of my question as Major Hardass glared at me with the strength of two eyes. "Uh, _sir_!"

"Those things are called rakshasa - they're basic hellhounds." Brigadier Lethe answered, seemingly satisfied by my use of sir. "We keep them chained - they used to make such a mess of the new recruits… You'll be using them for target practice today."

"Isn't that… unethical, sir?" I asked.

Brigadier Lethe closed his eyes and shook his head. "Don't worry, they don't feel a thing, and they're unworthy of mercy. Spend your time in the Crucible well. Out there, the demons aren't chained up, and you don't have me around to save your sorry arse. Well? Go on, get started! Show me what you can do!"

"Y-Yes, sir!" I said as I walked towards one of the rakshasa. As I drew closer, it snapped its teeth at me, panting. Swallowing nervously, I snapped my fingers, and I felt the energy I now knew to be anima flowing into the heat of the friction produced by my fingers. A blue fireball then roared to life as it burned above my palm, and I gulped once again as I said to myself, "Well, here goes nothing…"

I then grunted as I hurled the fireball as hard as I could, and as it hit the target, the fireball exploded into blue flames. The rakshasa screamed in pain, and I couldn't help but flinch at the sound. I then saw how _my _flames had burned the flesh on its stomach, and in a moment of weakness, I fell on all fours onto the floor, vomiting. As the last of my breakfast hit the concrete, I looked up fearfully to see Brigadier Lethe.

Strangely enough, he had an almost sympathetic look in his one remaining eye, and he knelt so he could pick me up by my arms and set me onto my feet. "Shh, it's fine, lad. The first one's always the worst. It'll get easier. It won't ever be easy unless you're some sort of sociopath, but it'll get easier. Think you can cast another spell for me?"

I nodded as Brigadier Lethe let go of me, and I took a deep breath as I turned to face the rakshasa. I then spread my feet apart, and took another deep breath as I felt the hairs on my body stand on end. I heard electricity crackle as lightning snaked around my body - more than I had ever produced before. I then thrust a fist forward with a loud cry, and the lightning leapt towards the rakshasa, electrocuting it. I flinched again as the rakshasa screamed, and I then found myself lying on my back, slightly dizzy and out of breath.

There seemed to be two brigadiers peering above me, concern on their faces, but my vision soon corrected itself, and I got up shakily onto my feet. Brigadier Lethe watched me carefully, and then said, "Careful, lad - we don't need you passing out from using up too much anima. Looks like control over how much you use in one strike will be one of the first things you'll have to learn…"

* * *

I sighed as I sat with my eyes closed and a hand rubbing my temples on the steps of Temple Hall, tired after a long day of training with Brigadier Lethe. In addition to jet lag and exhaustion from using so much anima, I also had a slight headache from staring too hard at candle wicks to try and light them with my mind _without _blowing up the damn things.

In order to try and alleviate my headache, I decided to go over the details of my living arrangements. According to Mr. Sonnac after I had visited him in his office after training, I would be living with a more experienced Templar while I was in London, but other than the fact that _she _knew what I looked like, I had nothing else to go by. A voice then interrupted my thoughts. "Hey there! Are you Chase Mercer?"

I opened my eyes and looked up to see a young woman smiling at me. She looked to be in her late teens or early twenties, and she was pretty, in an accessible girl-next-door kind of way, with chin-length strawberry blonde hair and amber eyes. She wore a gray hooded giletover a green sweater and black jeans with matching high-tops. "Yeah, that's me. And you are…?"

"Priscilla Ross. It's nice to meet you!" The woman said as she held out her hand, which I shook. "You'll be living with me in my flat while you're here in London. Now then - shall we be off?"

I nodded as I got up onto my feet, and I climbed into the shotgun seat of a Ford Crown Victoria with a faded red paint job as Priscilla started up its engine. I watched Temple Court as it disappeared behind the brick buildings of Ealdwic, and I wondered what tomorrow would bring.


	9. Might Makes Right - Tier 3

"Priscilla… What are _these_?" I asked nervously as I stared at the two plastic cards in my trembling hands.

"Your Templar ID card as well as a provisional firearms permit from the Met." I heard Priscilla answer from the counter as she washed the dishes. "Starting today, I'm gonna be the one handling your firearms and tactical training."

I swallowed nervously as I continued staring at the two cards. Both lied about my age and said that I was eighteen years old. "W-Why do I have to get a gun? I-I mean, I still have my elemental magic…"

"Why tire yourself out with a spell when a bullet will kill just as well with less effort?" Priscilla asked rhetorically. "From what I've been told by the brigadier, you still need to learn control over how much anima you use in one spell. This way, you'll be able to fight without having to worry too much about passing out from overexerting yourself."

"Well, when you put it that way, it makes sense, I guess…" I began as I put the cards away in my wallet. After I finished helping Priscilla wash the dishes, we got into her car and drove to one of the Templars' armories around Ealdwic. Inside was a receptionist's counter, where Priscilla showed the uniformed Templar sitting there some paperwork before leading me inside another room.

I gazed in awe and a little bit of fear as I stared at the guns lining the walls. It was like something of _The Matrix_. Mom would've had a fit if she had found where I was. I didn't have much time to stare, though, and I was soon herded by Priscilla to the section of the armory devoted to handguns. "We've picked out some guns for you to try out. When we're done, you get to pick one, so make sure you're comfortable with it. It'll be the only thing standing between you and a trip to the graveyard."

I reluctantly nodded as Priscilla handed me the first gun grip-first, and as I held it in my right hand, it felt like I was carrying Death in my palm. "So what do you think of the 1911, Chase?"

I hesitated as I stared at the pistol in my hands. "Hmm… To be honest, I think it's a bit too heavy for me."

Priscilla nodded as she took the 1911 away from me, and after fifteen minutes of searching, I finally settled on the FN Five-seveN USG, a lightweight polymer and steel pistol. After putting away the other handguns, Priscilla got me the Five-seveN's hard plastic storage case, containing three of the Five-seveN's twenty-round magazines, as well as a cleaning kit.

We then stocked up on 5.7x28mm ammo in another room, and I kinda felt like I was shopping for groceries back home as Priscilla and I walked around, pushing a hand truck. Loading the trunk of the Priscilla's Crown Vic with the ammunition cases, we drove to the back of the Crucible, where we locked the ammo up in another armory.

I was then taken to what appeared to be a lecture hall near the Crucible, and on a whiteboard with black marker, Priscilla listed the things we'd be covering. "…So that covers everything a regular police officer would be taught in the Academy, but instead of having six months to learn it, you have a week."

"…You're kidding me, right?" I asked nervously, and Priscilla laughed, making a sweet sound that whispered promises of future pain in my ear and sent a chill rushing up my spine.

"Oh, you wish. I hope you'll like the smell of gun smoke, because you're going to be breathing in a _lot _of it. But hey - at least you won't be subject to Saint George's - er, _Brigadier Lethe_'s tender mercies." Somehow, that did nothing to comfort me. "Now let's get started…"

* * *

Within a few days, my new life in London had settled into a routine. Wake up, make breakfast for both me and Priscilla, practice both magic and marksmanship, eat lunch, and then get my ass handed to me by Priscilla during close quarters combat training as she showed me various self-defense moves.

As I had learned during my first one-sided spar with her, Priscilla was also able to use magic, and her specialty was reinforcement magic, which enhanced her strength, speed, and endurance to superhuman levels. This, combined with her knowledge of martial arts, allowed Priscilla to throw me around with humiliating ease, which was only exacerbated by her saying that I had the arm strength of a gerbil. Not to hate on my mentor figure, but it wasn't my fault that I was unable to punch through concrete like she could, thank you very much.

I should also note that after she had tasted the difference between my cooking and the microwaveable meals we'd have for dinner if I couldn't move my arms, Priscilla began laying off my arms, though whenever I asked about it, she'd play dumb and avoid the topic.

Aside from my sparring sessions with Priscilla, I felt that I had made real progress with my training. With barely a glance, I could now light the damn candles _without _blowing them up, and my aim had gotten good enough that my shots didn't stray outside the index cards Priscilla taped to the paper targets I shot at.

In addition to training with my Five-seveN, I had also began to learn how to operate a FN P90 submachine gun, as it shared the same type of ammunition as my pistol. We also ran through combat scenarios where my brains were tested along with my newly-acquired skills, and I even managed to earn a compliment or two from Brigadier Lethe whenever he came over to watch me practice.

Overall, I was feeling pretty good about myself and my powers - a lot better than the first three days I had them, back when I would burn, freeze, and electrocute myself by accident. I thought that I was well on my way to becoming the badass superhero I've always kinda wanted to be, the kind that would be able to save people, but as I would learn later, there was no such thing as "a hero."

* * *

"Congrats, Chase - you've now passed the basic SWAT operator shooting test." Priscilla said as she took off her protective earmuffs and tinted shooting glasses, and I looked at her in surprise as I made safe my weapon.

"SWAT operator?" I asked as I put away my Five-seveN into its concealed-carry holster and did the same. In addition to earmuffs, we also had special earplugs that sealed their wearer's ears shut when decibel levels got too high, and these were what Templars wore out in the field.

Priscilla nodded. "Yeah, you passed the test that's given to newbies when they join a SWAT team and complete basic training. While you aren't quite ready to storm a terrorist hideout by yourself just yet, you could probably get there with a little more practice and a couple more spells. In fact, you shoot better than, like, ninety-five percent of the cops back in the States."

"Seriously?" I asked, and Priscilla nodded again. I knew it had been an intense week of training, but… _wow. _I had felt really good about myself then - enough to give myself a mental pat on the back. We then heard someone walking towards us, and we looked to see that it was Brigadier Lethe limping towards us, whom we saluted to as he approached. "Hello, sir."

Brigadier Lethe acknowledged our greetings with a nod, and he stopped in front of us as he jerked a thumb back to the entrance of the Crucible. "Sonnac wants you both in his office. _Now_."

Priscilla and I exchanged looks, and hurrying towards the doors, we left the Crucible for Mr. Sonnac's office.


	10. Might Makes Right - Tier 4

Inside of his office, Mr. Sonnac was seated at his desk, and he looked up at us as we sat down in the plush red armchairs. "Good afternoon, Ms. Ross, Mr. Mercer. The time has come to discuss your upcoming excursion back to the colonies. I'm afraid it's business, not pleasure."

Priscilla and I glanced at each other again, gray meeting amber, as Mr. Sonnac continued. "Recently, a small island community on the New England coast dropped off the map. You can disregard the tiresome government coverups - there are dark forces at play."

Mr. Sonnac then rose from his seat, and he began pacing in front of his mahogany desk. "Solomon Island is a rock with infamy - in the past, it was trafficked by the Illuminati, before they joined the rush to New York. You should be aware that we have… _history_ with the Illuminati - acrimonious history. Of course, under the flag of truce, we have spat and made up, and now, we are the closest of enemies. All smiles above the table, and drawn knives beneath it. The Illuminati are reckless and cannot be relied upon to clean up their own messes. We must find the root of whatever doom has come to Solomon Island."

"So… does that mean I'm going a rescue op, then?" Priscilla spoke up, and Mr. Sonnac shook his head no.

"Let me stress that this is _not _a rescue operation - merely a _scouting _assignment for _both _of you." Mr. Sonnac said as he glanced at the both of us, but I think his eyes laid a bit longer on Priscilla. "Should there be survivors, you cannot announce that you've been chosen to deliver people from evil. Joan of Arc did, and look where that got her."

Mr. Sonnac continued as he went back to his desk. "As you very well know, Ms. Ross, our goal is the salvation of _all_ mankind, not on a case-by-case basis. I understand that sticks in your throat, but… well, halos are fading all over town now that there is so much more at stake."

"That isn't so much the issue as the fact that you're letting a fifteen-year-old kid tag along with me." Priscilla said hotly. "I may be a thaumaturge, but I'm not a miracle worker! You can't expect him to be combat-ready with just a week of training! If you send Chase to Solomon Island with me, his blood is going to be on _your _hands!"

Before Mr. Sonnac could heat up the argument any further, I spoke up sharply to get their attention. "Priscilla!"

Priscilla jerked her head towards me in surprise, and I continued speaking. "I know you're worried about me, but I can't just sit back and watch everyone else risk their lives out on the front lines! Besides, this is what you've trained me for! Have a little faith in me - and in yourself, too."

By the time I finished my little speech, Priscilla's anger had faded away, but the reluctance was still there. She finally sighed as she leaned back in her comfy armchair. "Alright. I trust you, Chase."

I nodded, and Mr. Sonnac then sat back down in his chair. He gave us one last look from behind his hands as he rested his elbows on his desk. "Now that the matter's been settled, I'm asking you to leave as soon as you can - your travel arrangements have already been made at the Ealdwic Underground. I'll be in touch with you."

"Yes, sir." Priscilla and I both answered at the same time, as we got up from our seats to leave. As Priscilla closed the doors to Mr. Sonnac's, the sound of the doors slamming shut sounded ominously like a final goodbye.

* * *

As the slide of my Five-seveN clicked into place back onto the pistol frame, I then loaded a magazine into the gun and holstered it. As I entered the cozy and lived-in living space of Priscilla's apartment, I saw that Priscilla had detail-stripped her SIG-Sauer P239 into itty bitty pieces onto the rustic wooden coffee table. Next to the P239's parts was her sawed-off Mossberg 500, and as Priscilla put the last piece of the pistol into its place, she looked up to see me. "You ready to go, Daniel?"

I nodded as Priscilla holstered her pistol into its concealed-carry holster and hid the shotgun inside a duffel bag, and soon, we were walking down the streets of Ealdwic. We soon arrived at a brick building that I assumed to be one of the London Underground's stations, and as we went inside, we could see people manning rickety stalls selling all sorts of junk. Priscilla led me past them and to a flight of stairs indicated by a red arrow spray-painted along with the word: "AGARTHA."

Walking down the two flights of stairs, I then saw lush green vines covering the right-hand wall, and beams of bright light were peeking out from the plantlife. We walked towards the light, and I saw that the vines were growing around a hole in the wall, but instead of darkness in the hole, there was the bright light. I glanced at Priscilla, who nodded a silent confirmation of my suspicions. "Go on, then - I'll be right behind you."

"Well then - down the rabbit hole I go." I said as I nodded back, and after a brief moment of hesitation, I stepped through the portal into the unknown. I felt the air briefly resist me as I made my way through, but it soon yielded to me, and as I poked my head through the portal, everything went white.

* * *

The first thing I noticed when I had regained my senses was that it was suddenly very warm, and as I blinked the light from my eyes, I gazed in awe at my surroundings. Everything was bathed in golden light, and it turned out that I was standing atop a giant tree branch, one out of many connecting the trees towering above the void below. I then looked over my shoulder to see Priscilla come up from behind me. "Hey there. Welcome to Agartha, the Hollow Earth."

"Whoa…" I said as I continued gawking all around me. "So _this _is how we're getting around…?"

Priscilla nodded as she beckoned for me to follow her as she walked towards an old man flanked by two… robot things four times taller than he was. The man was dressed in a black peaked cap and a matching two-piece suit with the jacket unbuttoned. He stroked the gray mustache on his lip as we approached him, and he tipped his hat towards Priscilla as she spoke. "Good afternoon, Stationmaster."

"Hello again, Ms. Ross. I see we've brought a new Bee to Agartha." The old man said, and then seeing the look of confusion on my face, he then added. "And by Bee, Mister…"

"Mercer - Daniel Mercer."

"By Bee, Mr. Mercer, we mean one who has awakened their magic by coming into contact with one of the Bees. As you might have guessed already, Ms. Ross is also included amongst their number, with you as the newest I've seen yet." The Stationmaster said as one buzzed around us. "So what do you think of the old place, young sir?"

"I think it's just fine, though it's a bit hot in here." I answered as I took off my jacket, and the Stationmaster nodded.

"You'll get used to the balmy temperature soon enough, good sir. It's for the bees - they prefer it. Their honey is quite remarkable, though the aftertaste is a little like machine oil. Anyway, I do hope you're not here for the local service. It's running somewhat tardy. By my watch, it's…" A pause as the Stationmaster checked his pocket watch, and made a disapproving clicking noise with his mouth. "…one hundred years overdue at quarter past the hour, but judging from the cut of you, you two are more world travelers. Well, you've come to the right place."

The Stationmaster swept his arm around Agartha. "This underground realm, like the great British rail system, is the very model of efficiency. Agartha's thoroughfares sprout from the Tree of Life and connect back to the surface. Distance and time bend in here. In fact, through here, you can cross the globe in just a brisk walk."

"Are you kidding me?" I asked disbelievingly. "There's no way I can just walk to China right now without some sort of catch to the deal… is there?"

"Of course it's perfectly safe, young sir." The Stationmaster said dismissively. "No one's entirely sure how it works. Quite bedeviled the science boffins, but I'm assured they have their top men on it…"

One of the robots then stepped forward with a clanking footstep, and I thought I felt the branch shudder slightly beneath our feet. The robot then extended its arm, forming a fist above me. "Ah, I believe that this Custodian wishes to give you something. Hold out your hands, and mind your fingers."

I nervously held out my hands and cupped them together as the "Custodian" opened its gargantuan fingers, and something shimmered in the air as it fell into my palms. "Thank you…"

I then took a bit of time examining the bauble in my hands. It seemed to be some kind of orb, with one half made of brass, and the other made of glass to reveal an interior pulsing with light. I looked up to see the Stationmaster staring at the orb alongside me. "A fascinating device - consider it your anchor to the Hollow Earth. It can return you here in a flash, proverbially and quite literally."

I looked to see Priscilla holding another orb just like mine, and then the Stationmaster then straightened up and pointed down the length of the branch to another portal. "Well then. Onwards to the New England coast!"

"Thank you, sir!" Priscilla and I both said at the same time, and we began at a brisk pace towards the indicated portal. Priscilla was the first to enter the gate, and as I stepped through the portal after her, my vision went white.


	11. Dawning of an Endless Night - Tier 1

The first thing I notice when my vision clears is the moss growing on the wooden walls at my sides. I then noticed was Priscilla standing near the hole in the far wall. "Well? Come on!"

"Coming!" I answered as Priscilla then leapt out of the hole, and a second later, I landed on my feet right beside her, and I looked over my shoulder to see that we had emerged from the bow of a Viking longship. How it managed to beach its stern into the side of a hill, I had no idea, but there wasn't any time to ponder that archaeological mystery as Priscilla began to press on deeper into the forest around us.

Disturbingly enough, I could hear strangled screams the deeper we went into the forest, but I forced myself to ignore it and quell the churning of my stomach. There was also the light of a campfire flickering in the woods, and so that was where we were headed. We soon came across the source of the fire near what seemed to be the main road - Solomon Road, according to the green road sign on the side. A older man dressed in leather and a cowboy hat sat in front of his tent, poking at the coals burning beneath his pot with a charred stick. He then looked up to see us, though he didn't seem surprised by our presence. "Aw, don't worry, kids. You haven't gone back in time. I just happen to be the last of the cowboys."

The cowboy then gestured to the contents of the pot - baked beans, cooked to dark orange perfection amidst the brown sauce bubbling in the pot. They smelled _really _good, and I heard my stomach rumble as my mouth began to water. The man chuckled as he gestured to the pot with his stick. "Got your southern welcome right here - mesquite beans, Texas style. Good ought to face evil on a full stomach."

Priscilla and I glanced at each other before sitting down cross-legged on the ground opposite the man, and I noticed that he had a lever-action shotgun sitting at his side. The man then brought out bowls and spoons along with a ladle, and as he dumped a load of baked beans into her bowl, Priscilla spoke up. "My name's Priscilla Ross, and this is Chase Mercer. What's your name?"

"Name's Boone - Jack Boone. I'm a… troubleshooter." The cowboy answered as he served me next. As Boone served himself, we then ate in silence, which was just fine by me - I enjoyed both cooking and eating good food, and these baked beans tasted just as good as they looked and smelled. They were sweet and tangy from the sauce Boone had used, and it was nice and smooth on the way down to my stomach, where it settled pleasantly - much better than the slop people sold in cans.

Before I knew it, I was three-quarters of the way down, and Priscilla stared at my bowl. It had always baffled Mom how I could consume food so quickly without choking on it, and it had begun to baffle Priscilla as well. My secret is big bites, a minimal amount of chewing, and a good gullet for swallowing. "Do you even _taste_ your food as you eat, Chase? At the pace you eat, you could be in the military. Then again..."

The resulting conversation about my eating habits died down as we all neared the bottom of our bowls, and Boone then spoke up as he rubbed his bearded chin. "We need to have a powwow before you two can continue your little crusade. You Templars may be taking the high road, but just watch you don't get saddle rash from the high horse, okay?"

Priscilla said nothing while I nodded slowly, and Boone continued as he continued to stir up the flames with his stick. "Sure, you can be divided in purpose, but… we've gotta stand united against darkness. This ain't my first rodeo - I know we're gonna need all the unity we can get. Don't mean to say you stepped into hell, but… when the wind blows west, you can just about smell the brimstone."

"So have you managed to figure out what's going on around here, sir?" Priscilla asked as she brought another spoonful of baked beans up to her mouth, and Boone shook his head as she chewed and swallowed.

"All I know is death and fog came from the sea, or someone brought it back with 'em. If I was a gambling man, I'd put money on that someone still being around." Boone answered as he jerked his head in the direction of what I presumed to be the sea.

"Are there any survivors?" I asked, and my heart got a little lighter as Boone nodded yes. I hoped they were doing okay.

"There's a bunch of 'em holed up in Kingsmouth town." Boone said as he pointed towards the road. "Follow that main road and the sound of gunfire, and you'll come to the sheriff's office."

Priscilla and I both nodded, and then Boone's eyes focused on me. "Kid… whatever your reasons for being here, you find out what those people die for, and you bring a reckoning. Got that?"

"Yes, sir." I said, and Boone nodded as all three of us went back to eating the last of our baked beans in silence. As the others emptied their bowls, Boone set aside his bowl and spoon onto the ground. He stood up from the small collapsible stool he was using as a seat, his eyes narrowed at something Priscilla and I couldn't see, as our backs were turned towards it. "This forest crawls… Gets my fingers itching for two matters. One…"

Before we could react, Boone had brought his lever-action shotgun up to fire and pulled the trigger. I flinched at the sound, and if Priscilla hadn't made me wear my special earplugs, I would've lost my hearing at such close proximity to the shotgun blast. I glanced over my shoulder to see something fall down onto the concrete nearby. "…The other, figuring out a way to keep 'em down. It ain't right, the way the dead walk the earth. They deserve their six feet, same as everyone else."

As Boone chambered another shell from the shotgun's tube into the chamber, he added, "I'm sworn to keeping guard here, and you two got places to be, but nothing's stopping you from culling the herd as you go. Hell, figure out what makes them tick, and how to make that ticking stop, and I'll buy you two drinks at the apocalypse. So go on, kids - saddle up. The end of the world waits for no man."

We needed no further encouragement, and we nodded our thanks as we drew our guns and set off. We heard Boone's shotgun bang from behind us, and there was a loud cry as _something _fell dead on the road. Thus began one of the longest journeys of my life.


	12. For a Fistful of Zombies

Several abandoned cars were scattered about the concrete as zombies meandered through them. The walking dead looked to be about the same as any other zombie I've seen or read about, e.g., ashen skin, rotting flesh, raggedy clothes, bloody orifices, etc., but that didn't make them any less frightening to see in person. "You wanna take the first shot, Chase?"

"Uh, s-sure…" I said nervously as I took up the Weaver stance with my Five-seveN. _Alright, feet apart… One foot forward… Off hand supporting my shooting hand… Fingers wrapped around the front of the grip... Elbow bent… Aim down the sights… And fire. _

As it turned to look at us, the first zombie received two shots to the torso for its trouble, and a third shot to the head brought it down. This technique was called the Mozambique Drill, and now we had gotten the attention of the zombies around us. Priscilla fired her first shot into a charging zombie's center of mass, and then pumped the slide as a third got close. Instead of shooting it at point-blank range, Priscilla responded with a head kick that literally _decapitated _the zombie and sent its head flying through the windshield of a distant car.

I winced in sympathy for the poor zombie as the car's alarm went off, and all the other zombies started running towards the sound. I then snapped my fingers to create a blue fireball, and as I hurled the flaming projectile in their direction, it landed amidst the zombies. It then exploded like a grenade, sending them all flying from the force of the explosion, while my blue fire burned their already-decaying flesh. They all groaned in pain as they shakily got up, but they shuffled about normally as the fire crackled, as if they had been on fire all their lives. "So what have we learned, Chase?"

"That they're attracted to loud noises and can be set on fire, just like pretty much every zombie flick ever made. I doubt they feel much pain, judging by how they're walking around." I answered, and Priscilla nodded. Then, I saw her frown, and I looked to see yet another thing ripped straight from the cinema: two zombies feeding on a dead body on the side of road. "So… can zombies turn other things into zombies? Like, reanimate corpses or something?"

Priscilla shook her head as she pumped the slide of her Mossberg 500 as she pressed the butt of her shotgun against her shoulder. "No, not usually. Doesn't make their teeth any less dangerous, though. These things can bite _hard_, and they don't let go very easily. I'll take the one on the left - you take the right."

I nodded as I brought my gun up to fire, and the… "not-lives" of the zombies feeding on the corpse ended with bullets to their heads. We then raced over to the corpse to inspect it. The skin and flesh of the face had been stripped off the bone by the zombies' teeth, rendering the person unidentifiable, and there were several laceration wounds from the zombies' nails. The meat on the arms had also been eaten by the zombies, and I didn't feel very _humerus_ as I suddenly felt lunch coming back up the way it came, and now the poor victim could add teenage vomit and Texas-style mesquite beans, as well as bad puns about the state of its body after their untimely demise, to the list of its grievances. "Sorry…"

"It's alright." Priscilla said reassuringly as she patted me on the back and gave me a smile, despite the situation at hand. I felt better as she did so, but then we were interrupted by a loud roar. We looked up to see a seven-foot-tall linebacker of a zombie charge towards us from the woods, as if someone had just hiked the ball and we were the opposing team. As I froze in place out of fear like an idiot, Priscilla reacted instantly and pushed me out of the way _hard _with her enhanced strength before rolling off in the opposite direction.

I grunted in pain as my back skidded on the ground, and I cursed myself for being so stupid as I reached for my Five-seveN. As I heard the bang of Priscilla's shotgun, I pushed myself up and readied my magic with my free hand. The lightning arced from my hand towards the football zombie's head, and it howled in pain as the electricity coursed through its body.

I found myself breathing hard from the amount of anima I had put into the attack, but my eyes widened in shock as it lumbered around to face me. I froze long enough for the zombie to begin its charge with a roar. I tried to will my legs to move, but they just couldn't, but then I heard a scream even worse than the football zombie's roar.

As Priscilla leapt onto the back of the football zombie, I dimly realized that the sound from before had come from her. She had discarded her shotgun in favor of her hands, and she had on one of the scariest expressions I've ever seen on a person's face. As she climbed up higher and reached beneath the football zombie's chin, digging her nails into its skin, she growled as the football zombie tried to throw her off. "No - you - DON'T!"

There was a sickening crunch as the football zombie's head was ripped straight off its shoulders by Priscilla with the strength of, like, five gorillas, and as it fell forward onto the ground, Priscilla tossed the expressionless undead head aside as she ran towards me. I couldn't take my eyes off the stump that had housed the zombie's head not a few seconds earlier, and I barely registered the sensation of Priscilla's arms wrapped around me in a tight hug. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine." I lied as I swallowed nervously, and as Priscilla left to retrieve her shotgun, the adrenaline died down in my body, leaving me out of breath and my heart beating fast. By the time Priscilla returned, I had calmed down somewhat, and Priscilla had me text Mr. Sonnac our report with shaking fingers. This was his response:

_Good work, both of you. The information regarding the reanimated dead is useful, though not particularly surprising. _

_Jack Boone - now there's a familiar name. He pops up in reports everywhere. The man travels far and wide, and always seems to be onsite before our agents. His factional allegiances are unknown, though he does not appear to be associated with either the Illuminati or the Dragon. _

_It would pay to keep an eye on him. _

_R. Sonnac_


	13. Dawning of an Endless Night - Tier 2

"Heck if I know where you two came from, but anyone who walks through that door alive pretty much gets my amnesty." The sheriff of Kingsmouth said. She was a middle-aged woman in uniform, and considering the fact that the police station, as well as her town, was falling apart all around her, she looked pretty calm and professional as she sat at her desk. "Something in your past colors you sourly to a badge, I'd ask you to call it quits and return. We agreeable?"

Priscilla and I nodded as she spoke up for the both of us. "My name is Priscilla Ross, ma'am, and this is Chase Mercer. Pleased to meet you, though I wish the circumstances were better."

"Well then, I'm Sheriff Bannerman, and this down-home little stage of emergency is what's left of my jurisdiction." The sheriff said as she swept her arms around the inside of the small police station.

As several people were being tended to by a sleepless-looking man in a white lab coat, other survivors armed with shotguns and hunting rifles were standing guard at the makeshift barricades set up around the station. "Sure, we tried to hold as much of the town as we could at first, more out of nostalgia than any civil defense plan. I won't tell you Kingsmouth was a slice of heaven in a snow globe, but it was ours, and now it ain't."

Sheriff Bannerman sighed as she continued speaking. "There was always something running under in this town, maybe what's spilled out now. If that's how it works, I couldn't say hand on heart we didn't have it coming. But that fog, and the things in it, they didn't pick and choose when they came in. Most folks didn't stand a chance, and ones that did are being tended to by my husband over there." She jerked a thumb at the doctor seeing to the wounded.

Sheriff Bannerman then cast a glance at the guns in our hands, and I belatedly realized that a minor armed with a "cop-killer" handgun hated by gun control advocates for its supposed armor-piercing capabilities might not give the best first impression. "Now, I can see you're both armed. I won't kick up any fuss about that. Straight truth is, you'll need to be. Just don't go thinking that means you're deputized or such. Heaven knows if there was ever a time and a place for the right to bear 'em, you're looking at it."

"Are there any other survivors besides the people here?" I asked, and Sheriff Bannerman nodded.

"Henry Hawthorne has his word of God, that Rogêt woman has her crystal ball, and Norma Creed out on the point's got a 12-gauge." Sheriff Bannerman answered, and then as an aside, she added, "My money's on Norma."

Priscilla nodded. "Thank you for the information, ma'am. Chase and I will be on our way."

* * *

As we walked up the path to the Creeds' house, we soon caught sight of a zombie creeping up on its unsuspecting victim staring at the huge bonfire burning bodies in front of the house - an old woman I guessed to be in her fifties. Before Priscilla and I could bring our guns up to fire, the would-be victim turned around, and I saw that she had a shotgun in her hands.

A split second later, the zombie's head was blown clean off its shoulders, and I wolf-whistled. "Dang, I wish my grandma was that cool." Not to speak ill of the dead, of course - she was the one who taught me all of her secret recipes, after all. Even now, I still make her meatloaf and put it in the fridge for Mom.

The woman then caught sight of us with her wild eyes, and she lowered her weapon. "Hello there! Don't believe I've had the pleasure."

"Same here." Priscilla answered as we walked up to Norma. "Priscilla - Priscilla Ross, and this is Chase Mercer."

The old lady then glanced down at her dirty clothes. "Well now, I'm not much fit for entertaining, but I reckon you ain't much in the mood for hospitality either, am I right?"

"No, ma'am." I answered politely, and the old lady chuckled.

"Well, you two sure make a nice change of pace from a surly husband and kids more comfortable with kicking a ball around than having a conversation with their ma." The old lady said as she held out her hand towards me. "Name's Norma - Norma Creed. Raised a family up here, before this dungeon thick fog came took 'em, is my story."

"Chase - Chase Mercer, and this is Priscilla Ross. Nice to meet you." I said as we all shook hands.

"Helen sent you two over to check on me, I reckon." Norma said, but before we could correct her, she continued. "Now, your concern is wicked kind, but I don't need any pityin'. I got my shotgun, I got... what's left of my wits - I'll manage."

"So when did all of _this_-" Priscilla gestured to the dead monster lying on the ground. "-start, Mrs. Creed?"

"The hullabaloo began after the _Lady Margaret _came back..." Norma began as she beckoned for us to follow. We sat down together on the front steps of the porch, and Norma stared deeply into the light of the bonfire. "My husband Larry, the others... we all thought they'd gone missing out there - that the sea took 'em. Day they came back, whole town could finally breathe again. But then came that fog, like it was following them back to shore..."

Priscilla and I sat there in silence as Norma rambled. "'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay... that bring the fog and mist."

Norma then caught us staring at her, and she shrugged her shoulders. "Don't ask me where I got that from. Probably heard it on _Oprah_."

Somehow, I doubted Ms. Winfrey had ever hidden copies of _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner _beneath the seats of her audience members. Wondering how I knew that? Well, I memorized part of Samuel Taylor Coleridge's poem as part of the poetry unit back in eighth grade. I was obsessed with C.S. Forester and Patrick O'Brian at the time, so a nautical poem seemed appropriate.

Anyway, back to Norma. "Never got to ask Larry about what happened those weeks they were gone. Been around gift horses long enough not to look 'em in the mouth. He was back. Thought life would go on the way life goes on... one day at a time."

Norma pointed off into the distance towards the bay. "When the fog lifts enough to see the _Lady Margaret _laid up in the harbor, covered in that red seaweed, I always wonder... if he'd still be here if I had."

I made eye contact with Priscilla, who nodded as she patted Norma on the shoulder. "Maybe... maybe not... Thank you for the lead, Mrs. Creed."

"See you around." I said quietly as I too patted Norma on the shoulder, and together, Priscilla and I left behind Norma and the Creeds' house for the harbor, where the _Lady Margaret _was waiting for us.


	14. Draugnet

As we arrived at the corner of Elm Street and Belmont Avenue from the Creeds' house at Poe Cove, a nasty surprise awaited me and Priscilla. It was over twice as tall as us, with blue flesh covered in seaweed and barnacles, as if it had just risen out of the darkest abyss of the ocean. The monster stood on legs as thick as tree trunks, and had two sets of muscular arms, one pair much beefier than the other, with rippling muscles that ended in giant crustacean claws that could've easily snapped us in two.

The other pair of arms was normal, save for the blue skin, although the left arm ended in a bloody stump. To add icing to the nightmarish cake, the monster had a skull-like head with an octopus-like thing sitting on it, and I could see a tentacle squirming out of the skull's eye socket. Before I could come up with something witty to say, the monster roared as it charged our position. Priscilla and I immediately split up, and as the monster swiped at Priscilla with one of its claws, I conjured up the biggest fireball I could.

Priscilla darted forward, avoiding the monster's beefy arms as she went, with a well-placed reinforced kick, she broke the bones in its knee, forcing it lower. I seized the opportunity to hurl the fireball directly at its face as it got up onto its good leg, and it screamed as its face was set on fire. Priscilla narrowly avoided being thrashed around by the monster as it writhed in pain, and she took the chance to blast it in the face with her shotgun.

The monster proved to be as tough as it looked as it survived Priscilla's headshot, but at least it was now blinded. Out of desperation, it began to swing its beefy arms around in hopes of turning at least one of us to paste, but Priscilla managed to get out of range. As she chambered a new shell into her shotgun, I pelted the monster with more blue fireballs, and it screamed in my direction before grabbing the closest thing it could find: an abandoned station wagon.

I hit the ground just in time to avoid being flattened by the car, and its hood and bumper crumpled as it struck the street behind me. Somehow, I didn't think the owner's car insurance policy covered monster attacks.

My knees were shaking at the thought of narrowly avoiding death by flying car as I stood up from the pavement, but try as I might, my trembling fingers were unable to produce another spark. Hesitantly drawing my Five-seveN, I gripped it tightly as I aimed down its sights at the monster. It was a sickening sight, with most of its face burnt off by my own magic, and now Priscilla had broken the other knee, crippling the monster. With one final blast of her shotgun, the monster was dead, and I ran over to where Priscilla stood, and together, we looked down upon the fallen monster. "Just what the hell is this thing?"

Priscilla was breathing just as hard as I was, and she shrugged her shoulders as she pumped the slide on her shotgun. "I dunno, but let's send a few photos of it to Sonnac and let the people at Temple Hall figure it out."

* * *

_It appears we are dealing with bigger problems here than just the reanimated dead. The name "draug" is ringing a lot of bells around here, and I'm told we have plenty of information on these marine creatures on record. On ancient record._

_We could still use more information, however, particularly about the larger varieties with the lobster claws, and their general ecology. _

_On that note - they do have some excellent shellfish in that region, worth looking into if you work up an appetite. _

_R. Sonnac_

* * *

"I can wrap my head around the walking dead, but these 'draug' things? Not so much…" I remarked as I observed the monsters taking a stroll on the beach through a pair of binoculars Priscilla had brought. We were hiding behind an abandoned car on Belmont Avenue, scouting the path to the _Lady Margaret_. Standing guard near the three brood pods stationed on shoreline of Fletcher Bay were two different kinds of draug: some had spikes for arms, while others had clubs for arms instead, but what really caught our attention was out in the water.

In the waters of Fletcher Bay stood female-looking draug with tentacles growing out of their backs, awaiting the zombies that would shuffle into the water to meet them. The draug would then insert their tentacles into places I didn't really want to think about too hard, and the zombies would bloat to the point where they looked pregnant. Like, third trimester pregnant. Ugh… I did _not_ need that mental image. Could someone get me some brain bleach?

Anyway, the pregnant zombies (ugh, I think I just threw up a little in my mouth) would then shuffle back onto the sand and collapse onto the beach, which couldn't have been too good for whatever fetus they were carrying, and we watched carefully as they began transforming into pods pulsing with life, like something out of _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_. After a while, the pods would then open up to reveal a newborn draug, tall and pale, and as slimy as a maggot.

"So what have we learned, Chase?" Priscilla asked as we both put down our binoculars at the same time, amber eyes meeting gray.

"The zombified locals get drawn out to sea, drown, rise, get knocked up by tentacle rape, and then plant themselves as pods on the shore to give birth to more draug." I answered as I pulled the slide back on my Five-seveN partway to check if the chamber was loaded - which was kind of pointless, since my pistol had an indicator to tell me that. "Very romantic."

Priscilla snorted with laughter, and we both gazed at the _Lady Margaret _awaiting us in the bay, with only the draug in our way. I then spoke up. "So what's the plan, Priscilla?"

"Alright, we're going to sabotage the draug by taking out the ones guarding the beach at a distance before closing in on the pods. You ready?"

I nodded as I gripped my pistol, and together, we began taking potshots at the draug. As the first few guards fell, the other sea monsters realized where Priscilla and I were hiding, and the bulkier ones led the charge towards our position. Snapping my fingers to create a fireball, I then hurled over the hood of the car, and was soon rewarded by the sounds of my magic grenade exploding and the draug in pain. Glancing out from behind the car's bumpers, Priscilla and I then took out the flaming draug still standing with our guns. "Come on, now's our chance!"

I followed Priscilla as we ran out from behind our cover, and as we charged onto the beach, I conjured up another fireball to blast the first brood pod into smithereens. Nearby, Priscilla kicked one of the pregnant incubator zombies in its bloated stomach before using the butt of her shotgun to deliver a fatal blow to the back of its head. "Chase, focus on taking out the pods - I'll cover you!"

"Got it!" Snapping the fingers on both my hands, I now had two fireballs burning above my palms. I then pitched them towards the remaining two brood pods, and the fiery grenades exploded as they came into contact with their targets. As we fought, the stench of blood and burning flesh crept into my nostrils, and I fought off the oncoming nausea as I helped Priscilla to finish off the rest of the draug.

I heard Priscilla cry out as one of the tentacled draug managed to grab hold of her, but luckily, I managed to land a headshot that incapacitated the monster before it could turn the battle into a _hentai _scene. Priscilla responded to her attackers with a vengeance, and soon, the other draug were lying dead in the water, the waves lapping up their blood.

"Think we've got all of 'em?" I asked as Priscilla and I stood up to our ankles in water, and my question was answered by a loud growl coming from deeper within the water. "…Of course I had to jinx myself. Of course…"

The water of Fletcher Bay began to bubble as another sea monster emerged from its depths, and in a great pillar of white froth, it revealed itself to us. It was a weird-looking thing, with a gray octopus for a head mounted atop a trunk with four large tentacles for limbs, its flesh covered with barnacles and other sea life. Flaps on the sides of its head covered something giving off an orange glow from inside the monster's head, and its eyes glowed the same shade of murderous orange.

Priscilla and I then brought our guns up to fire, but the barnacles on the new draug's body seemed to act as some sort of natural armor as it charged us with all the ferocity of a three-legged corgi. Seriously - it could barely waddle towards us with its tentacle legs. It was kinda cute, actually, though the anger in its eyes kinda dampened the _aww_ factor.

Snapping my fingers for a fireball, I then hurled it at the draug, hitting right between the eyes. It squawked in pain as it stumbled slightly in its rush, but it quickly recovered as it swiped at me with the tentacles on its face. I felt like I had been punched in the gut as the tentacles struck home, and as I fell backwards, winded, Priscilla grabbed the monster's attention by blasting it with her shotgun.

My clothes were drenched with seawater as I quickly scrambled to my feet, and I was just glad that I had managed to keep my Five-seveN out of the water. Priscilla had managed to clamber onto the draug's side, and it was now trying desperately to buck her off, to no avail. Priscilla brought her gloved fist back to try and punch through the draug's barnacle armor, and pieces of shell shattered and broke off as she punched the living daylights out of the draug.

"Priscilla!" I cried out as another fireball burst into life, and with a final kick, Priscilla launched herself off the monster so I could exploit the weak point she had created. The draug cried out as the fireball struck home and exploded, and as it stumbled, Priscilla brought her shotgun up to blow its brains out. With a final cry, the draug joined its fallen brethren in the water, bullet holes riddling the burnt flesh exposed by its barnacle armor.

Amber eyes met gray as we stood over the draug's fallen corpse, and I then chose to say what was on my mind as the smell of burnt cephalopod monster wafted into my nostrils. "I dunno about you, Priscilla, but now I'm in the mood for calamari."

* * *

_I just received word from R&amp;D that the data you two have obtained is giving us fresh insight into draug behavior. They appear to have a more complex ecology than we first thought. _

_You've given our research teams a lot to think about - hopefully, in time, it will give us an edge over these creatures. Alas, not in time to save Kingsmouth, but you cannot win every skirmish. This is, after all, going to be a very long war. _

_R. Sonnac_


	15. Dawning of an Endless Night - Tier 3

The _Lady Margaret_ was a derelict little fishing boat, with barnacles growing on the faded green paint of its hull and rust covering the other metallic parts of the ship. The stench of brine lingered in the air as we approached the gangplank, and as we stepped aboard the metal spar deck, I could see that it was littered with lobster cages and other fishing gear. As Priscilla and I came to a stop in the middle of the deck and surveyed our surroundings, we froze as we heard footsteps rushing towards us from aft, and we immediately drew our guns.

A draug-like monster rushed down the ladder of the ship from the forecastle, and as it neared us, it began puking a sickly yellow-green liquid at us. I leapt backward to avoid getting hit, and Priscilla intervened with a kick to the small of its back, sending it sprawling forward. As it rolled over onto its back in an attempt to get up, Priscilla pointed her shotgun into its face and pulled the trigger, spraying us both with monster matter. "Eww…"

As I finished wiped the monster blood off my face with the sleeves of my jacket, Priscilla frowned as she got down on one knee to examine the fallen corpse of the monster. "Hey, look at this. It looks like a note…"

"What does it say?" I asked as Priscilla pried the note out of the monster's cold dead fingers, and Priscilla cleared her throat as she unfolded the crumpled piece of paper and began to read aloud.

"Lucky to be writing this. Can't believe what happened… shouldn't believe it. That's what Doc Bannerman would say. Shrink's going to be earning his pay when we get home… If we get home. Larry and his boy Derrick are clammed up. Joe's real fevered. And this thing - still shining like a flashlight. I look over my shoulder, I swear I still see that fog."

There was a pregnant pause as Priscilla and I exchanged glances, and as she stood up with the note in hand, she then spoke what we both were thinking. "Let's head back to where the survivors are. Maybe we can find Dr. Bannerman then."

I nodded, and together, we left behind the wreck of the _Lady Margaret_, and stepped ashore onto the harbor, trading one grim reality for another.

—

"The Lady Margaret's last trip was a traumatic experience for everyone on board." Dr. Bannerman said a little while later, as we sat in Sheriff Bannerman's office, who happened to be his wife. "They were changed men when they came back."

"Did any of them get psychiatric help when they returned?" Priscilla asked, and Dr. Bannerman nodded in the affirmative.

"Of course. I visited with all of them in the days following their return. In my office, there are detailed transcripts of our sessions. I'm afraid it all happened so fast that day, there was no time to pack. I hope they may shed some light on what happened out there."

"Thanks, Doc." Priscilla said as she turned to face me, compassion in her eyes. "We'll be sure to check there in the morning. For now, though, we'll rest. It's been a long day after all. You go ahead and take a break, Chase - I'll see about finding someplace to sleep."

"Okay, then. Thanks…" I said, grateful for the chance to be left alone with my thoughts. As I got up from the metal folding chair I had been sitting in, my eyes lit up as they spotted a Keurig coffeemaker sitting on an empty desk. I immediately made my way to the coffeemaker for a cup of something hot, but along the way, I accidentally bumped into a young man wearing a police uniform. "Oops, sorry…"

"It's fine, it's fine." The young policeman said in a friendly manner as he gave me the once-over and held out his hand. "I'm Andy - Andy Gardener. I'm Sheriff Helen's deputy, and I don't believe we've met before. So what's your name, kid?"

"Chase - Chase Mercer." I answered as I shook his hand and then jerked a thumb at the coffeemaker. "Say, wanna go for something to drink over there? I know I sure could use a cup."

Deputy Andy laughed. "You took the words right out of my mouth - I was just about to head over there myself. Come on, let's go."

Soon, the coffee was brewing, and while we waited, Deputy Andy's friendly personality soon took over the conversation. I didn't mind listening too much - Deputy Andy had more than enough talk for the both of us. The conversation soon got around to his career as a cop, and Deputy Andy spoke as he sipped his coffee from the styrofoam cup he was holding.

"I wanted to be a police officer since as far back as I can think. I had a lot of time to myself growing up, yeah. I watched all the cop shows, again and again, yeah, the old shows, when a good cop was always a good cop. When you knew you could trust a badge, right, yeah?"

I nodded in understanding as I sipped at the hot chocolate Deputy Andy had made for me, and he continued on. "So that was my goal, plain and simple. I was single-minded about it.

"Now, I wasn't what you call a straight-A student, but I got there, and when Sheriff Bannerman swore me on as deputy, gave me my badge…" Deputy Andy trailed off, lost in thought. He then snapped back to reality as he caught sight of me waiting. "Well, uh, that day I was just as happy as a clam at high tide."

I nodded again, and then figured it was my turn to add to the conversation. "Y'know, when I was a kid, I always wanted to be a superhero, like a Power Ranger or something. After looking at all this, though, it made me wonder if I'm really cut out to be one after all…"

"Hey, don't worry about it. Not all superheroes get it right the first time." Deputy Andy said as he patted me on the shoulder, and I couldn't help but a smile a little.

"Thanks. So… what was Kingsmouth like, before… y'know, the zombie extras from _The Walking Dead_ decided to film here without the crew?"

"You wouldn't know it from looking out there, but before that wicked bad fog rolled in, Kingsmouth was a sleepy little burg. Nothing stronger on the streets than a hot cup of coffee and chocolate glazed donuts from Suzie's. The occasional DUI or domestic disturbance, human sacrifice… Still, what town doesn't have a little trouble, with cultists?"

Upon catching the look on my face at the words "human sacrifice," Deputy Andy scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Jeez… When it's all laid out like that, it does sound pretty bad, huh? But every town has a dark side, right? We sure are getting a heaped helping of darkness now, eh? Walking dead and worse besides taking over our town. Us survivors holed up in here hoping it's all just a bad dream and we will wake up to the smell of bacon and maple syrup. And unless someone ups and does something and soon, all we're gonna wake up to is the smell of rotten flesh and I don't need another thing to remind me of my dad."

"So… What are the people here like? It seems like it would be a pretty nice town, y'know, if it weren't almost all zombie territory by now." I asked, hoping to get away from a potentially sensitive topic. Deputy Andy seemed to cheer up a bit at that.

"Oh, I knew everyone in Kingsmouth. Sheriff Bannerman preferred to have me walking the beat, while she handled house calls. That suited me just fine. Our folks were a good bunch. They only cause of ruckus when they've had too much of the, uh…" Deputy Andy paused as he considered what to say in front of me. I made a gesture, saying that I understood what he was talking, and for him to go on.

"Anyway, I recently got talking to Sandy… That guy is pretty philosophical. You wouldn't know it just by looking at him! I mean, I don't personally have a problem with bikers. I'd like a motorcycle myself. He made me really consider it, you know, whether you really ever knew a person. Speaking of Sandy, I gotta get this coffee to him. Wanna come along and meet him?"

"Sure." I said, and with that, we headed outside. We soon arrived at a nearby workbench, where a man with shoulder-length brown hair, blue jeans, and a black leather jacket was fiddling with parts I couldn't make heads or tails of.

"Hey Sandy, I got you your coffee." Deputy Andy said, and the biker looked up from his work in order to take the proffered styrofoam cup.

"Thanks, Andy." An appreciative sip. "Mmm… That's damn good coffee, Andy. You sure know how to make a man happy."

"Why thanks, Sandy." Deputy Andy answered. "All I did was fill her with water and change the filter, but I appreciate it."

"The offer still stands, Andy. When this is all over, you're welcome to hop on the back of my bike and go explore the open road together."

"Ah, geez, thanks. I'm sure it'd be fun, but I couldn't leave this town or Sheriff Helen. It'd just feel wrong."

"Well, I respect that about you. You're a good man, and any woman would be lucky to have you."

"Well, uh, there hasn't been any... But that doesn't mean I, uh, I… Ah, geez, I'm sorry."

"Relax, my friend. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." The biker said as he patted Deputy Andy's arm before noticing me standing off to the side. "So who's the kid?"

"Name's Chase Mercer, and you are…?" I asked as I held out my hand.

"Sandy Jansen, but most call me Moose." The biker said as he crushed my hand with a grip rivaling Priscilla's. As I looked up from shaking the pain off, I saw that Deputy Andy was turning to leave.

"Well, I gotta go back onto the roof with my rifle. See you all tomorrow?" Deputy Andy asked, and Moose and I both nodded. "Great. See you all later."

As Deputy Andy left, I then turned to Moose. "So… What's a biker like you doing out here, making, uh…?"

"Bombs." Moose supplied, and he chuckled as he saw the look on my face. "Relax, my young friend. I've got plenty of experience blowing shit up. Road here said I'd be pitching in with soft-shell lobster season. Instead, I found nightmare country, maybe the very rotten heartland of it. Anyways, aren't you a little young to be coming in for a zombie apocalypse?"

"Yes. Yes, I am." I said, chuckling as Moose gestured to take a seat on a nearby crate. "So what's the life of a biker like?"

"'_Freedom lies in being bold_,' said Robert Frost, so I boldly quit my job as a financial analyst on Wall Street and traded my rent-controlled apartment on Christopher Street for a vintage Harley and an old poncho. Found my salvation in the open road, and I haven't looked back since."

"So you came for the shellfish, and when the fog came, got stuck in a zombie apocalypse." I summarized. "Ouch."

Moose shrugged as he continued his tinkering, empty styrofoam cup on the workbench. "Eh, not as big a surprise as you might think. Living on the razor's edge of society your eyes open up to the possibility that there's something more to this world, something most people are too blind or too preoccupied to notice. Even if it's right under their noses, and has been all along. A _secret world_, so to speak."

That last sentence caught me off guard, but I tried to keep my cool as my voice dropped low. "So you know about it, then?"

Moose nodded. "I only noticed small things at first. Roads that appeared and disappeared. Folks who travelled by way of gates drawn in chalk on brick walls. Houses bigger on the inside than the outside. Magic trinkets sold at yard sales. Street shamans capable of taking out the cancer inside you. But it wasn't until I found myself face to face with werewolves in New Orleans that I realized there's a secret war going on.

"After that, I couldn't escape it. I saw signs and sigils everywhere. I've met recruiters for the Templars, Illuminati, the Dragon… They all seem to think I'd make a useful operative."

"Well, who wouldn't want a badass biker skilled with high explosives on their side?" I joked, but then my face grew serious as I snapped my fingers, staring at the blue flame that had appeared. Moose didn't seem particularly surprised. "As for me, I got snapped up by the Templars less than a week after fire started coming out of my fingertips. So… does that mean you're a member of…?"

Moose shook his head no. "I told them I'd take no sides, and that I'd be little use to them. But the 'united against darkness' thing, I can get behind. We're all in this together… and we all got work to do."

"Yeah…" I said as I stared down at the brown depths of my now-cold chocolate, and there was a pregnant pause between us before Moose spoke up again.

"So, have you ever considered buying a motorcycle?" I shook my head no, and Moose began to extol the virtues of buying a motorcycle to me like a professional salesman, lightening the mood of an otherwise-dark day.


	16. Dawning of an Endless Night - Tier 4

I didn't sleep very well that night. After a meager dinner of crappy MREs from Priscilla's duffel bag, we settled into our sleeping bags on the floor for a fitful night's sleep. As soon as I had closed my eyelids, I was bombarded with flashbacks of the day's events. Among the visions I saw were the corpse eaten by the zombies on Solomon Road, as well as the following attack by the football zombie. In my sleep, my nose was assaulted by the stench of burning flesh wafting from Norma Creed's bonfire, as well as the smell of the salty brine from the beach and the _Lady Margaret_. All the while, my ears kept replaying the horrid cry of the various monsters Priscilla and I had slew.

Finally, I dreamt of being caught in the draug goliath's claws, having the life squeezed out of me as my gun dropped onto the street below. I screamed in excruciating pain as the teeth of the draug's claws pierced me like knives digging into my flesh. I desperately willed my fingers to try conjuring up a fireball, but the pain was too great - the signals from my brain weren't getting through to my metacarpals. Red was seeping into the edges of my vision, and at this point, the pain in my stomach had dulled to a painful ache, and my voice had died down to a whisper. "Help me…"

The last thing I saw was the skull-like face of the draug laughing at my demise, and then I blacked out, dead.

* * *

I catapulted awake from my nightmare into the real world, breathing heavily as I felt cold sweat trail down my face. I swallowed as I wiped my face with my jacket lying on the floor, and I tasted something bitter deep in my throat. I then reached for the water bottle next to my jacket, and I ended up downing a quarter of it to make the taste go away. With my drink in hand, I then reached for my smart phone to check the time - six o'clock.

Setting the water bottle aside, I was careful not to wake up Priscilla as I crawled out of my sleeping bag and pocketed my phone inside my jeans. Neither of us I had changed out of our clothes from yesterday, so all I had to do was put on my sneakers and jacket, as well as my concealed carry holster. Slipping the Five-seveN into its holster, I then headed outside to where I could smell something cooking.

"Morning, Chase. You hungry?" Deputy Andy said as he raised his styrofoam cup of joe towards me. He and Moose were sitting around an electric hot plate, along with a bunch of canned goods. I nodded mutely as I joined them on the ground, and I found myself staring at the contents of the boiling pot: pork and beans.

Soon, breakfast was ready, but I couldn't find it in myself to enjoy the food - not after the last few hours. My tastebuds didn't register any of the pork and beans, nor the sliced Spam or mashed potatoes that came with it as my hand mechanically lifted my utensils to my mouth. I was the first to finish the food on my plastic plate, and Priscilla soon joined us not long after, with a severe case of bedhead.

I sat there along with the others as the fourth wheel, nursing a cup of hot chocolate as Priscilla and Moose struck up a conversation based on their mutual love of motor vehicles, Deputy Andy occasionally adding his two cents in, eventually turning the conversation into one about cats. "...Mom bought the kittens and dad drowned 'em. Stuffed 'em in a garbage bag and took 'em out to sea. Said they were gonna go for a swim. Said they needed the exercise. They never came back. Few years later, neither did my dad. He took 'em down to Journey's End, out behind the bed and breakfast. It's where the journey ended."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I felt the same way when my pet died." Priscilla said sadly as she patted the deputy on the shoulder. That seemed to cheer up Deputy Andy, though I noticed Moose's shoulders and the corners of his mouth had drooped as he stared at Andy in what I thought to be a longing look. I then leaned over to him and whispered, "So what's the deal between you and Deputy Andy?"

Moose sighed as he whispered back to me, Priscilla and Andy too caught up in their own discussion to notice. "That man saved my life, selflessly, and I love him for it. I'd go to the ends of the world and back for Andy… I don't think I'll ever win him over though."

"Well, if you ask me, I think you got a decent shot. He seems pretty open-minded." I said, and Moose nodded as he expressed his thanks by patting me on the shoulder. My eyes then began to glaze over as Moose joined in the conversation, leaving me all alone, and I began to sink deep into my thoughts, the others' voices soon becoming meaningless background noise.

"Chase? It's time to go." A gentle voice said, and I was jolted awake from the numb haze I had slipped into while contemplating the dark brown color of the unfinished joe inside my styrofoam cup. I looked up to see Priscilla's amber eyes gazing at me with a look of concern, and I tried to nod reassuringly as I got up. "You okay there, Chase?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." I answered. Priscilla looked unconvinced, and even I didn't entirely believe my own words. In an effort to distract myself, I spoke up again. "So did you find out where Dr. Bannerman's clinic is?"

Priscilla nodded, and drawing my pistol, I followed her out of the survivors' compound into the zombies' territory. A few minutes and a few dead zombies later, we were standing outside the door to our destination. Cautiously opening the door in case there were hostiles inside the building, I stayed close to Priscilla as we entered the clinic and locked the door behind us. We had soon completed our SWAT-like sweep of the building and confirmed that there was no one inside, leaving us free to examine Dr. Bannerman's office.

There really wasn't anything of much interest inside the doctor's work area, except for a dusty old computer that looked like it belonged in a museum someplace. Nevertheless, we were able to boot it up, and together, we stared at the monitor. "Ugh… Do you know how to work that thing, Chase? I sure as hell don't."

I stared at the green text on the monitor before sitting down in the doctor's rolling chair. "It's actually pretty easy. Instead of clicking, you just have to type in what you want the computer to do. See the number 1 next to 'Case Database?' That's what we have to type in to get what we came here for."

There was a brief pause as I did just that, and another piece of text came up. "Ah, now we got a password, but luckily, we can ask for a hint. Let's see… 'Music of the seasons 1723'. Sounds classical. Try looking it up, 'cause I sure don't know."

"Thank God for Google…" I heard Priscilla mutter as she whipped out her own smart phone. "…Aha! Here it is: '_The Four Seasons_ is Antonio Vivaldi's best known work, and is among the most popular pieces of Baroque music.' Try typing Vivaldi in!"

"Already on it." I said, my fingers flying towards the blocky keys. We both gave a small cheer as the password was accepted, and the screen then displayed the list of cases Dr. Bannerman had worked on. "Ah, here we are. Let's see… According to this file, he had three patients: Derrick Creed, Lawrence Creed, and Joe Slater. You might wanna take a photo of their addresses." A click as Priscilla took a photo of the monitor with her phone for future reference. "Alright, now let's check his notes…"

I typed the command to see the notes on the three patients, and as each section of text loaded, we both leaned in closer to read.

_Derrick suffers from severe headaches and a keen sense of paranoia. The similarities with Joe Slater and Lawrence Creed are alarming. It seems the symptoms develop at uneven rates, but I fear everyone on the boat might be affected with this… Whatever it is._

_Second consultation with Lawrence today. The headaches are getting worse, to the point where he can no longer function normally. The paranoia has not abated, and he has developed a new symptom: night terrors. I prescribed an anti-depressant, but if his development is anything like Joe's, I fear he will only get worse. _

_I saw Joe again today. This was the fourth consultation, and I'm at a loss. He was barely coherent, his left leg twitched and he obsessively scratched his right arm. Paranoia has developed into severe delusions. Consulted with Hartmann in New York who suggested the symptoms are more likely signs of schizophrenia, which echo my earlier diagnosis. With others from the boat presenting with similar symptoms, however, and the patient's lack of response to medication, I fear this might be something environmental. Something eating away at the brain. Prescribed clozapine, but am not optimistic._

"Hmm… So what's the plan now?" I asked, and Priscilla pursed her lips in thought before answering.

"Let's check in with the Creed Brothers' Hardware Supplies on Main Street - they're the ones closest to us right now."

"Alright, sounds good." I said as I turned off the computer and stood up from my chair to follow Priscilla outside. We didn't have very far to walk to get to the back door of the Creeds' shop, and we soon came across two dead zombies lying slumped against the back of the shop for no apparent reason. It was as if they had decided to just lie back and die."

"Check their pockets." Priscilla ordered, and we both moved to inspect the rotting corpses. My stomach hardly churned at the decaying stench as I reached into the pocket of the dead man's jeans and pulled out a wallet. While it unfortunately didn't have any money to steal (I'm kidding, of course - I'm not _that _unscrupulous), I did manage to find a driver's license with a picture of an old man in his fifties or sixties - more specifically, Lawrence Creed's driver's license. "I got Lawrence Creed here. What about you?"

"I've got Derrick." Priscilla answered as she stood up from putting the dead guy's wallet away. "I guess all that's left to do is to find Joe Slater. Come on, let's go, Chase."

* * *

Joe Slater's house on Belmont Avenue was your average small colonial home, big enough for a small family, and right now, Priscilla and I were standing outside the door. We had already pushed the doorbell multiple times without answer, leading us to believe that Joe Slater was gone. However, we weren't about to give up hope just yet.

As magi, Priscilla and I both had a sixth sense for magic, which often manifested itself into our other five senses as well. Right now, the traces of anima around the house appeared to us as green smoke that smelled of the sea and something… _filthy_ rising from footprints leading from the front door of Joe Slater's house to the manhole in the street. "Hey Chase, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I think so, but to be honest, I'm not exactly looking forward to getting dumped in a sewer." I said as I stared at the manhole from the porch. Priscilla beckoned for me to follow her to the street, where she lifted the manhole up to allow us in. "Down the rabbit hole you go then, Chase."

I sighed in resignation as I began climbing down the ladder, and when my feet touched the wet ground, I looked around in the dim light coming from the surface to see that the sewer was absurdly spacious, considering the size of the town it serviced. Not that I was complaining, of course - I wasn't exactly eager to have to get down on all fours and stick my hands in toilet water contaminated by someone else's feces.

As she touched the ground, Priscilla handed me one of her flashlights, and together with guns at the ready, we ventured off into the darkness. My Five-seveN was ready in the Harries technique, where my right hand held my gun as it rested on my left wrist for support, and my other hand held my flashlight in a reverse grip for light. It was times like these that I really appreciated the glowing green dots of my Five-seveN's tritium sights, as they allowed me to aim even in the dark.

Priscilla took point with her shotgun, and I stayed close to her as we went deeper and deeper into the dank darkness of the sewer. The further we went, the further I strained my ears for any sign of danger, but all I could hear was the whisper of a song: hauntingly beautiful, with a soothing voice that made me want to follow it to its source with my eyes half-closed. More pressing matters kept me focused on the task at hand however, and the lights of our flashlights roved around the inky darkness in front of us, illuminating the stone surfaces of the sewer, as well as the muck seeping into the soles of our shoes. The tunnels seemed interminable until we heard a low moan come from somewhere nearby, and we immediately swerved our flashlights towards where the sound was coming from.

Priscilla let out a gasp while I managed to restrain myself at the sight illuminated before us. Huddled low in the muck was a figure barely recognizable as a man, with his battered old fishing hat and waterproof red-and-black raincoat. What really got our attention though was the thick trunk of blue flesh he called a left arm, covered with coral. "Holy shit, are you… Joe Slater?"

The figure nodded as he squinted at us. His voice came out in a rasp that sounded as if he had been gargling pebbles. "Look on your faces says even my good side is worse for wear. I've been trying not to think about the… changing. Like it could all be a bad dream I ain't woken up from."

Joe Slater stood up from the muck so he could face us, and to our horror, we saw that the other arm had tentacles sprouting from and writhing out of the skin, while the other side of his face was pockmarked with barnacles. Wild eyes stared us without breaking their gaze as he gasped out his next words, gesturing as he did so. "Nightmares, all nightmares, since that storm blew us off course. Off the compass, off the map. We didn't tell anyone about the shit we saw. About dead ships all caught up in red weed as far as you could see. About the things moving in the fog… In the water. About what we saw beneath it all, deep into the abyss. Or what I found there. In that dungeon darkness, it shone like a signal flare. Like something fallen down from heaven above, you understand?"

Joe Slater then broke eye contact with us, and he began to pace slowly in the sewer water, speaking in a raspy whisper as he occasionally glanced back at us. "A blade and sheath made of pure light, things of terrible beauty. I could hear its siren song, just… _calling_ me. Last I remember was the Creed boys hollering as I took a hold of it. Or it took a hold of me. I wasn't strong enough, I know that now. They told me it pushed back the fog and the waves while I was out cold. Told me it saved us. It didn't save us. That thing brought the fog back to Kingsmouth. I brought the fog back to Kingsmouth."

Joe Slater then suddenly moved, and before I could react, he had grabbed my shoulder. I froze in place as Priscilla brought up her shotgun. A few seconds passed before the tableau finally broke, and Joe Slater rasped his next words, his wild stare into my eyes unnerving me. "And I still hear that siren song! I know you hear it, too. You could find it. You could stop the god-awful noise!"

Here, Joe Slater finally let go of me, and Priscilla reluctantly lowered her shotgun as he turned his back on us, staring at the tentacles wriggling on his arm. "And put that burning brightness back where it belongs, in the deep, in the dark. I wonder what would've happened if I never left that red sea. Maybe Joe Slater never did… and all this is just some pitch dark dreaming…"

Joe Slater then turned around again, and for the first time, he seemed to notice the guns in our hands. He looked up from staring at my Five-seveN, and I was unnerved by the almost… _eager _expression on his face. "Hey… I got one last thing to ask of you. Hear me out, 'kay?"

I hesitantly nodded, despite the ominous feeling I was getting, and Joe Slater began rambling. "You've seen those monsters out there in the bay, right? I'm already halfway to becoming one of… _them_. But you! You can stop me before the changing's complete!"

My heart fell deep into my stomach, where it began to churn and grow colder in wide-eyed fear. I swallowed nervously before I opened my mouth, and even then, my voice was barely above a whisper when I spoke. "You're asking me to kill you?"

Joe Slater nodded way too eagerly for me to be comfortable, and the cold feeling in my stomach only grew icier as he continued. "You see these tentacles on my arm, don't you? It's only a matter of time before I lose my mind to this siren's song and come crawling out of the sewers to come after the others. So please - put me out of my misery."

"…Very well, then." As I raised my gun to aim down its sights at Joe Slater's head, I didn't hesitate in pulling the trigger. I didn't flinch at the gunshot - Hell, I didn't even blink as I watched the body of Joe Slater fall backwards into the muck with a splash. The smallest of smiles was etched upon his barnacled face, and I felt… _hollow _inside as I lowered my smoking pistol, staring at the face of the man I had just killed. "…It's easy. It shouldn't be so easy… _right_?"

There was a pregnant silence between us as I felt Priscilla give my shoulder a comforting squeeze, and I shoved my Five-seveN back into its holster. I stared at my hands for a moment, glancing back and forth between them and Joe Slater before shoving them back into my pockets. I breathed in deeply as I closed my eyes, and I could hear the siren's song again. I could hear it now - how the song might drive someone like Joe Slater to suicide after a long while. I then shook my head to rid myself of the thought of Joe Slater and his death by my hands. "Come on, Priscilla - I think I can lead us to where the song is coming from."


	17. Dawning of an Endless Night - Tier 5

As Priscilla helped me out of the manhole and onto the street, I could still hear the siren's song in my ears. As I looked around, the song seemed to grow louder as my gaze fell upon the outskirts of Kingsmouth town. "There - I think that's where we're supposed to go."

Priscilla nodded, and I took the lead, partly because I seemed to be the only one who could hear the siren's song, but mostly, I didn't want to see the look on her face any longer than I had to. Feeling that I would slowly go mad like Joe Slater if we took any longer, I broke into a jog, Priscilla following closely behind. Following the trail of musical notes, I led us off the beaten path and into the woods beyond. We leapt off the roots of trees, dodged aimless zombies that took no notice of us, and rushed past abandoned station wagons left lying on the dirt roads.

The song grew stronger and louder the closer we got, until it was almost deafening as we finally arrived at our destination: a long tunnel connected to the main road, and taking a moment to catch my breath, I pointed into its inky depths. "This is the place. I can feel it. Let's go in before I go crazy from the noise in my head."

Priscilla nodded as she readied her SIG Sauer P239 and turned on her flashlight, illuminating the tunnel with a long spear of bright light. "I got point. Cover my six, Chase."

I didn't need to be told twice, and drawing my gun, I followed Priscilla cautiously into the tunnel with my own flashlight. We took our time in examining the walls and ceiling of the tunnel with the roving lights of our flashlights, until Priscilla's came across a heavy metal door. "You getting anything from this, Chase?"

I pressed my ear against the cold and unfeeling metal of the door, and after a second or two of listening, I nodded. "Yeah, it's definitely here. The door's open, too - better be careful."

I let Priscilla open the door with her reinforced strength, and together, we ventured into what I assumed to be the maintenance tunnel. Moving carefully past wooden crates lying around and decrepit rusty pipes against the wall, we stayed on our toes for any sign of trouble. At this point, the siren's song seemed to be booming out of the walls, as if I had just walked into an aisle of stereos playing the same damn song at full volume. Unfortunately, my earplugs didn't seem to work for the siren's song, so I was left to suffer in silence in order to maintain our secrecy to any listeners.

"Quick, turn off your flashlight!" Priscilla hissed as we rounded a corner, and as I did so, she pointed towards some lights coming from a doorway. Pressing ourselves against the concrete wall of the maintenance tunnel, we quietly crept towards the doorway. "Are you sensing anything, Chase? I'm not getting anything."

"Negative." I answered softly after tuning in to my senses for any sign of magic as Priscilla cautiously glanced from the doorway into the room. "So is anyone there?"

"Nope. I think it's safe to go in." Priscilla answered quietly as she went inside the room. Like the rest of the maintenance tunnel, the room had concrete walls lined with dusty wooden crates and rusty old pipes, but it was fairly spacious, and there was a desk covered with books and notes. Priscilla inspected a map of what appeared to be Solomon Island that was taped to the concrete wall, some sort of strange marking drawn in red inhabiting the top right corner, while I checked out the notes left behind.

An advertisement for scenic flights from Kingsmouth Municipal Airport was taped to the corner of one particular page, and several words were scribbled in ink onto the paper:

_Black heart of the island. Illuminati archives. Fucking tunnels must be an entrance, but where? Several entrances? All lead to the archives? Home - basement - secret, forgotten, inconspicuous. Aerial view. Scenic tour._

As I looked up from taking photos of the various notes with my smart phone, I noticed a symbol painted on the wall the desk was set up against: a blue circle inside of a blue triangle. "Do you know what any of this stuff means, Priscilla?"

"No, but I do recognize that symbol on the wall - it's Illuminati." Priscilla answered as she pointed at the blue sigil. "And before you ask, they definitely exist, and they're our biggest rivals. From what I've heard, they're big on money and power, and the whole thing's run like a big business corporation where the company motto is 'Eat or be eaten.'"

"Ah, I see." I remarked as I snapped another picture with my phone's camera. I then froze as I suddenly noticed something important was missing - something that I had wished would just go away barely a few seconds ago. "Hey, I just realized something - the song's stopped playing. Wait… did you hear that?"

There was a pause as we both took the time to listen to the footsteps approaching, and we immediately ducked behind some nearby wooden crates for cover. "…finally silence the incessant noise and moved it. To a safer place."

The voice belonged to a man that was wearing what seemed to be the black robes of a priest. His dark hair fell down to his shoulders, and stubble grew on a handsome face. A second voice then spoke up - a woman's this time. "So where-"

"Away from here." The man said curtly as he inspected the map on the wall. "I'm not in a sharing mood, Cassandra, and the moaning isn't helping."

"That's not what you said last night." The woman named Cassandra purred with a Southern accent as she crept close behind the man. I had to admit, she was pretty good looking, with bleached blonde hair and a seductive smile on her face. A pink necklace hung from her slender neck, and a heart pierced with an arrow adorned the tight white tank top hugging her upper body, though I did think the red denim miniskirt was just a bit too short.

The man huffed in annoyance as he turned away towards the desk and away from where Priscilla and I were hiding. Cassandra pouted cutely as she put her hands on the man's shoulder and pressed her body closely to his arm. "Oh baby, I thought we had something. Something _magic_… Black as space, and red as blood…"

"This is so very far beyond you, little girl…" The man said in a low warning tone, and Cassandra sighed dramatically as she backed off and rested her hands on the edge of the desk adjacent to the man. "Oh, fuck off. I've seen the beyond, and I'm a fast learner. I'm ready for more than… _this_. Give me something. Let me in. Let me do what I'm good at."

"What, getting the boys to sign over their lives for a snog?" The man snorted, and Cassandra rolled her eyes as she turned her back on the man. "I'll tell you what you can do. We're spreading an idea, but that idea won't take hold without carriers. You keep spreading those long legs of yours to recruit more foot soldiers."

"Be still, my beating heart." I could just barely hear Cassandra mutter as she turned to face the man again. "Here's what I don't get, Beaumont. You heave what you've been looking for, your precious magic sword. You control the armies of the living dead. You pretty much own this island, so the question is… why the sour face? I mean, what is that you're-"

Realization then dawned on Cassandra's face mid-sentence, and she lowered her hand from caressing Beaumont's face. "…You're missing something. Right? This is interesting. Your treasure, your precious… You can't use it, can you? I mean, the spirit is willing, but the flesh…"

I had to look away as Cassandra reached for Beaumont's crotch. I mean, I have nothing against women who are proactive in the pursuit of their relationships, but that was just a bit too forward for my liking. "Oh my, the flesh… is… _limp_."

"Watch it, little girl." I heard Beaumont growl in a warningly tone. "You have no idea what-"

My blood froze in my veins as Priscilla made an inadvertent error in easing her discomfort from sitting so still, and we held our breath as Cassandra spoke up quizzically. "What?"

"You want to know what this is really about, Cassie dear, when it all comes down to it?" Beaumont asked, regaining control of the conversation. "Change. Evolution. A new dawn. The world tree will shake, the sun will turn black, and the gods themselves will fall. We are _rebooting_ the world."

"That's the thing, isn't it? What everyone talks about." Cassandra asked as I peered around the box just in time to see her take a seat on the desk. "It's the big headline. The dawning of a new age. Right? Tokyo, the endless night. I like it. There's poetry to it, and oh does it suit you, the evil sorcerer thing. It's _sexy_."

"The answer is in the archives somewhere." Beaumont muttered as he turned his attention the map. "It has to be. They knew about it, the gateway to the black heart of the island. I have the key… but the lock… The lock is the fucking thing…"

"Wait, didn't you say that the lock-?" Cassandra asked as she approached Beaumont from behind, but he quickly cut her off.

"I've been around long enough to recognize the flavor of the day, Cassie…" Beaumont answered coldly. "…and _you're_ it."

"Oh. Really? So that's it?" Cassandra asked, offended as she put her hands on her hips. "That's how you repay me…?" A pregnant pause. "You piece of _shit_… No more."

Cassandra's footsteps paused for a moment as she walked away out of sight. "Take one last good look at what you're missing…" She then spat out her next words as a slapping sound was heard. "…_lover boy_."

"Useless bitch…" Beaumont muttered, turning back to the map as Cassandra's footsteps grew farther and farther away. "The Illuminati and their bloody labyrinths…"

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Priscilla and I could sigh in relief as Beaumont left, but we were cautious not to make too much noise as we worked out the kinks in our bodies in case someone else was listening. "So what now, Priscilla?"

"You've got Beaumont's notes on your phone, right?" Priscilla asked, and I nodded. "Good. We can use them to follow his trail and get to the bottom of all this."

"Sounds like a plan." I answered as the both of us stood up, and together, we ventured back out into the darkness.


	18. Dawning of an Endless Night - Tier 6

After exiting the tunnel, Priscilla and I set off at a brisk jog to Kingsmouth Municipal Airport, where we hoped to find some clues as to what Beaumont was up to. The route we had decided to take took us near the entrance to Kingsmouth's fenced-off scrapyard, but as we passed by the hills of rusty cars and thrown-out junk, we heard the barking of dogs.

Priscilla and I drew our weapons in the dogs' direction, but we soon relaxed as two perfectly healthy and not-at-all undead Dobermans ran towards, barking loudly. Quickly putting away her shotgun, Priscilla went down on one knee in order to greet them as they licked at her hands. "Aw… Aren't you two the cutest little things? Yes, you are! Yes, you are!"

"Tango! Cash! Down, boys, I said down!" A voice then interrupted Priscilla's baby talk, and we looked up to see a redneck in greasy overalls and a red baseball cap coming towards us. "Well, well, well! Looks like we got ourselves visitors, boys, and these two are breathing! Come in, come in, 'fore the Frankies and Smurfs catch us."

"Alright, boys, come on…" Priscilla ushered the dogs as she stood up, and they followed her happily inside while the redneck stared at the trio with a weird look on his face.

"Heh… Funny how quick they've taken to her. They're mean sumbitches. Sooner bite a chunk off your B-U-T as look at you. Watch as you don't make eye contact, particularly with Cash there, the one right there to her right. He don't much care for that, and he's the friendly one." Edgar said, chuckling. "Anyways, the name's Edgar. What's yours, kid?"

"Chase, and that's Priscilla over there." I answered as we watched Priscilla and the dogs. Then, the dog to Priscilla's left suddenly lunged at something lying on the ground, and Edgar immediately scolded his dog.

"Hey! Tango! Leave that arm alone! It's infected! Fucking dumb motherfucker…" Edgar immediately scolded his dog, and then Cash then took his turn to sniff at another zombie limb on the ground. Priscilla was ready this time, however, and she held the dog back by its collar one-handed. "Jaysus Christ on a bicycle, fuckers got a taste for Frankies! And that slip of a girl's pretty damn strong, too… That reminds me - it's lunchtime, ain't it?"

I nodded, and Edgar beckoned for me to follow him into the fenced-off scrapyard. "Well then, come on in. I was just fixin' to get some grub."

* * *

A few minutes later, I was working in the makeshift outdoor kitchen Edgar had set up, while he and Priscilla sat at an old picnic table with plastic cups of soda, which I found odd enough, as I had figured Edgar was the type to go for hard booze. Maybe it was because I was there with Priscilla. Tango and Cash were at their heels. The familiar housework calmed my nerves somewhat, but I was still shaken by the day's events.

As I cooked, I overheard Edgar's conversation with Priscilla. "Dogs been keepin' the yard clean, goddamn Frankensteins get spooked by 'em. Those who don't get spooked, they get torn into tiny li'l pieces. Even I get sick of watching 'em go at it, and I've seen some sick shit in my life. But the boys, they can't get to all of 'em. Frankies and Smurfs keep popping up like… like, uh… like bunny rabbits at Easter! Boom, boom! You know what I mean?"

"You mean the zombies and the sea monsters attacking the town, right?" Priscilla asked, and Edgar nodded as he took a swig of soda from his cup.

"Yep. I call 'em Frankensteins on account of the movie, see? Dead men walking, get it? And the Smurfs? Big blue bastards with spikes and claws, and those walkin' brains, runnin' the whole fuckin' freak show. Jeez." Edgar said, rubbing the back of his head. "Anyways, you're here to fight Frankies and those mutant Smurfs, right? I even got some toys you can play with. Toys that go BOOM and SPLAT! Don't ask me where I get 'em, 'cause I won't tell you, and it ain't none of your business, you understand me?"

"I got you." Priscilla answered, and Edgar seemed pleased with that. He was even more pleased by the sight of me carrying the styrofoam plates of oily sausages and cornbread to the table. As I sat down to eat, I noticed Tango giving me that pleading puppy-dog look with his dark eyes as he glanced between me on the sausage speared by my plastic fork.

I experimentally waved my fork around, and Tango's eyes never left the plump and juicy sausage stabbed on the tines of my fork. I smiled as I removed the sausage from the tines of my fork, and Tango whimpered as I brought the meat close to my lips. "You want a sausage, boy?" Tango answered in the affirmative by panting even louder. "Well then, here you go."

Tango yipped happily as I tossed the sausage into his waiting mouth. By the end of the meal, I ended up giving Tango almost all of my sausages, leaving me with just the cornbread and soda, which wasn't too bad. As the last of the disposable cutlery were thrown away, we sat at the picnic table nursing our drinks. As Cash's head rested in her lap, Priscilla asked Edgar, "So have you noticed anything strange happen during the fog, besides the… Frankies and Smurfs?"

Edgar shrugged as he reached into his pockets and pulled out a little piece of folded oily paper. "Nah, me and my boys've been too busy keepin' the damn Frankies and Smurfs away, but if it helps, I've got all the shit I've heard written down right here on this li'l piece o' paper."

Priscilla unfolded the note, and I leaned in next to her so I could see better. While the note was badly misspelled, and the times logged were vague ("dark," "real dark," and "dark like the devil when he's drunk" aren't exactly very specific), one thing caught our eyes. According to Edgar's "Scrapyard Securitee Log," there had been gunshots coming from the "air-o-port," and when asked about it, Edgar said, "Yeah, someone's holed up in there for sure. Bet Tango can sniff 'em out. Why don't you do us both a favor and take him with you to check it out?"

* * *

That was how we ended up accompanied by a dog on our trip to Kingsmouth Municipal Airport, and Tango led the way across the runway as we followed close behind with our guns at the ready. Finally, we arrived at a building on the outskirts of the airport, a truck parked right outside, and Tango began barking at the door. "You think he's found something, Priscilla?"

"I think so…" Priscilla answered as she moved past Tango to knock on the door. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

There was a brief pause, and then the door open to reveal a heavily-built dark-skinned man in a mechanic's uniform, a Glock in his hand. He stared us down for a moment before speaking, and I noticed that the name "Ellis Hill" was sewn above his breast pocket.

"Hmm… Goddamn… Thought you might be one of them…" The man said as he cautiously lowered his gun and switched the safety on, and we did the same with our own weapons. "Better be more careful… Accidents can happen when you sneak up on a man…" As we entered the building, Ellis then turned around held out his hand towards me. "Put it there…"

"The name's Chase, and that's Priscilla over there with Tango. Nice to meet you… Ellis…" I answered as I shook his hand, and Ellis nodded as he let go of mine. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that he had a radio sitting on a table in the corner, and that it was hooked up to the outlet. Nearby was a shovel caked with fresh dirt and... blood?

"Nice to meet you both, though I feel like I should tell you that a man's gotta guard his handshake." Ellis answered. "Gives away a lot of a person's soul, and I'm not talking about that palm-reading shit. You shake a man's hand, you get a sense of his worth - his past and present."

"So what did you get from me?" I asked, and Ellis regarded us for a moment before answering my question carefully.

"I saw a young man who's got blood his hands - a young man who got only a glimpse of the abyss. A glimpse which shook him up real badly."

"That sounds about right…" I admitted with a sigh as I stared down at my hands, and Ellis nodded understandingly as he raised his callused palms for us to see.

"See the wear on these? Metalworking hands… for fixing things up… or breaking them, _real_ slow. No secrets - all in plain sight. More than you can say for this island." Ellis said. He then sighed as he turned around and stared out the window of his hideout. "You got the back and a stomach for digging deep… all manner of shit comes out… But nothing I haven't seen the likes of in my line of work. You're thinking there's nothing dangerous about what I do. You'd be wrong. I can tell you all about what people try to hide behind a coat of white paint."

The single lightbulb that illuminated the building began to flicker, and Ellis spared it a glance before speaking up again. "Generator's been acting up, which is fine during the day, but at night… They get bolder when the lights are out, the sea beasts… and my aim gets worse… Makes it harder to tell friend from foe… I think it's in everybody's best interest if those runway lights stay on."

"Agreed." Priscilla and I both said at the same time, and Ellis nodded as he brought out what appeared to be the rolled-up plans for the airport's drainage system. He then unrolled the blueprints and pointed at different spots on the map. "You two are gonna have to check out the wiring here, here, here, and here."

"You're not coming with us?" Priscilla asked, and Ellis shook his head.

"I'm a mechanic, first and foremost, not a soldier. Sure, I can handle this pistol well enough, but…"

"That's alright, we understand." Priscilla said as she petted Tango on the head. "Got a piece of paper we can borrow?"

Within a minute, Priscilla had dashed off a quick note to Edgar telling him about Ellis, and Tango was sent back to the scrapyard with the paper tucked behind his collar. As the two of us walked out into the runway, I asked Priscilla, "So what'd you think of Ellis?"

"He's definitely a liar." Priscilla answered. "You heard what he said, and you saw that radio on the table, right? I highly doubt he was using it to listen to talk shows, and he was _very _familiar with that Glock of his."

"You think he might be trying to contact someone by radio, and that he sent us to do his dirty work for him?" I asked, and Priscilla nodded.

"If we restore the generator, his message will have a better chance of getting through. For now, we'll help him out - we'll both benefit from making the runway lights more reliable. With that in mind, here's the plan - we'll split up and investigate the airport. I'll go fix the wires in the sewers since you don't have any electrical engineering experience, and you stay topside to try and find whatever you can about Beaumont or Ellis."

I took a deep breath before answering with a nod. "Alright, sounds good. You should get going - I'll be fine on my own."

With that, Priscilla nodded and readied her shotgun before racing off and leaving me all alone. Drawing my own weapon and switching off the safety, I checked to make sure that a round was loaded inside the Five-seveN's chamber. Seeing that there was a cartridge inside, I nodded in satisfaction before heading off towards the nearest of the airport's two hangars.


	19. The Confession of Ellis Hill

The hangar was dark as I entered the building, and I made sure to keep my gun at the ready as my flashlight roved, looking for Beaumont's notes. As my flashlight illuminated the outline of the Cessna plane in the middle of the hangar, the light landed on the surface of a wooden table with some papers on it in the corner of the hangar. "Oh, what's this?"

Shining my flashlight on the documents, I began searching through them for any clue to Beaumont's plans. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to turn up anything useful except for a map of Solomon Island. One spot on the map, located outside of Kingsmouth town, was marked with a red circle, and I figured that would be our best shot at finding Beaumont. Taking a photo of the map with my phone, I then folded up the physical copy to put it in my pocket before sending my report to Sonnac, complete with the pictures of all the stuff Priscilla and I had found so far.

Barely a few minutes after I had sent my report, I froze as my phone began to ring, and I looked at the caller ID to see that it was Sonnac. "Hello, sir?"

"I wish to speak to you about your report on the situation, Mr. Mercer." Sonnac's smooth voice said. "You and Ms. Ross have shown admirable work so far on unravelling the mysteries of Solomon Island. We appear to be dealing with a sorcerer of some stature in possession of a powerful weapon. Our augurs are attempting to get a read on the sword and its current owner. It's proving disconcertingly difficult, but this artifact is of great value to us, and not just as a key to whatever it is Beaumont is looking for. We will need you to pick up the trail as soon as possible, but caution is advised. This is a dangerous man you're dealing with, and we do not want you running into a situation you are ill-suited to handle."

"Understood, sir." I answered. "While we're at it, could you please have someone look into a mechanic at Kingsmouth Municipal Airport by the name of Ellis Hill? There's a man here along with us claiming to be him, but he's made us suspicious of his true identity."

"Very well, Mr. Mercer." Sonnac answered as he ended the phone call. I sighed as I was taken back to the home screen of my phone, where I noticed I had gotten a new text from Priscilla. Upon checking it, I saw that she had sent me a lovely picture of a dead and beaten body, as well as a message from Priscilla: _This isn't the work of a zombie or draug. Investigate._

"Well, well, well, _Ellis_…" I remarked as I pocketed my phone. "Looks like we've got a case of mistaken identity here. Let's see what we can dig up…"

* * *

My first stop for the investigation was the truck parked just outside where "Ellis" was hiding out. The truck appeared to be locked, but when I tugged on the handle of the driver's door, I found out that it was unlocked. How careless. From there it was easy enough to slip inside and close the door, and I was grateful for the tinted windows that kept me hidden from view as I fiddled with the GPS.

"Gotcha!" I said to myself quietly as I snapped a photo of the route the GPS's history had shown me. Sneaking out of the truck's other side, I sent a quick text to Priscilla with the photo of the GPS before leaving the airport. Although the minutes I spent avoiding the Frankies and Smurfs that prowled the outskirts of Kingsmouth town was tense, it was an easy enough task, as their senses were fairly dull.

Soon, I came across a pile of fresh dirt near the base of a tree, and the smell coming from the dirt was foul, like rotting flesh. The dirt was soon cleared away to reveal a decaying corpse wearing a mechanic's uniform with the name "Ellis Hill" on it. The different picture on the ID in the uniform's breast pocket only confirmed what Priscilla and I had suspected: that the "Ellis" at the airport had killed the real one to steal his identity.

As I groped inside the other pockets of Ellis Hill's body, I felt my hand touch what felt like paper. "Hello, what's this?"

Fishing out the torn piece of paper from the real Ellis's pocket, I unfolded the note and began to read.

* * *

_I didn't have to write this. Hell, the sailors would never approve. But where I come from, you put a man in the ground, you owe him an explanation for why. Even if it is just a note written on a piece of paper that you tore from a notebook you found in said dead man's pocket. It's about respect. My mama always taught me how important that was. _

_Ellis Hill, I didn't know you. Fact is, the only things I knew about you were your job and your address. In a pinch, I could've phoned home and gotten any details I'd wanted - your habits, the names of your pets, your first love...anything. We may not be as connected as our landlocked brethren, but when you make a living selling information - you get really good about harvesting it. _

_It's funny though, in this day and age, how details can get lost in the noise. Take us. You were the new engineer at the airport and your uniform was the only one I even had the slightest chance of fitting into. The only guy who was within the age bracket I could pull off. I was even ready for the beard - had a story all prepared in my mind about my first shave in years. And in all that preparation, all that time I spent getting ready to take over your identity; nobody ever mentioned you were a white boy. _

_Ellis, let me tell you how I chuckled the first time I saw you through my binoculars. I didn't know whether to be proud or furious. On the one hand, it says a lot about progress in the world that nobody even thinks that is an important detail. Jesse Jackson would be proud._

_On the other hand it made my job a lot harder. A white man turning into a black man? At some point in the process of interviewing for you new job, somebody local must have met you. _

_I've never been big on worrying though. I figured that would be a river I would cross when I came to it._

_What happened next? Well you know. I waited for you on the road to the airport. Waved you down in your rust truck. Asked you for help._

_I've always had strong hands but strength has never been the most important thing in a strangling. Endurance counts too. You gotta hold yourself steady and count the beats. You gotta be like a mast in a storm, moving with the struggles - bending but never breaking. _

_You struggled, I remember. Drumming your heels against the door of the truck, fists and elbows flailing. I could see it on your face, that feeling of helplessness. You knew what was coming, and you knew you didn't have the power to stop it. Your eyes...they wanted to know why. The worst thing about strangling, Ellis, is that it ain't nothing like Hollywood makes it out to be. You see, the first thing people do is pass out. That makes them easier to manage. But if you stop strangling, they start breathing again. The body wants to live. I respect that. _

_There is this period of silence, when nobody is fighting back and I'm just a man crushing the life out of your body. It takes minutes, but it feels like hours. Gives a man time to think, to reflect. It's not about strength any more, but mental toughness. _

_You gotta have a powerful belief or a powerful anger to get through that. _

_I was never angry with you, Ellis. But I am a believer. I believe that you needed to die so that I could get on with my business here._

_I nursed you until it was over and then I threw you in the back of the truck and got to burying you. I've seen enough in this dark world to know that you might come back. If you do, I can't say I would want to meet you. But I wrote this so you know how things stand._

_There's a fog rolling over Solomon Island. Dark days are coming. _

_I might have done you a favor._

* * *

My hands were sweaty and shaking by the time I finished reading. Who the hell writes about how they kill someone? I thought people like those only existed in fiction. Wiping my hands dry with my jacket, I reached for my phone to call Sonnac. As he picked up the phone, I began speaking in a breathless tone. "Sir? I've found Ellis Hill - the _real _one."

I then went on to explain (read: ramble) about what I had found out about Not-Ellis. Fortunately for me, Sonnac was a good and patient listener, and he waited until I was done babbling before commenting. "Well, that was disturbing. Our organization doesn't pretend to be spotless - our colors include red for a reason - but we don't derive sick fascination from describing the details of a man's death.

"As for the real Ellis Hill, he was a widowed aviation mechanic. He played baseball in college. That appears to have been the highlight of his life.

"We know far less about the man pretending to be Ellis Hill. We know he is a murderer who likes to get his hands dirty. He has demonstrated only cursory knowledge of aviation, though is adept at sending encrypted signals out to sea.

"If I were a betting man, I would say it smells Phoenician. They are rudderless racketeers – and likely here to smuggle more than just lobster off the island. When the reckoning comes for that monster, we'll let you handle the dispensation of justice."

I swallowed nervously as I wiped the sweat off my brow before answering with a choked voice. "Yes, sir."

As Sonnac ended the phone call, I leaned against the tree Ellis had been buried by, and I sighed deeply. I then lifted my Five-seveN to check if the chamber had a round inside, and it did. Good. I was going to need it.

* * *

"Come on, come on, you piece of junk… We got business to be getting on with, you and I…" Not-Ellis muttered to the radio as he banged softly on it with his fist, though I doubted percussive maintenance would work. He then caught sight of me from out of the corner of his eye, and in a split second, we had our weapons at the ready.

I stared down the tritium-insert sights of my Five-seveN at Not-Ellis, who had his baseball bat ready to swing. The tableau lasted for one tense second before Not-Ellis lowered his bat, ending the Mexican standoff. "You came in quiet. Shit. My senses are getting dulled in here. Got used to the creeps outside. They don't have a light touch, and neither do I."

Ignoring the subconscious urge not to do so in the presence of a known murderer, I switched on my gun's safety in order to avoid accidental fire as I holstered, but I continued to watch Not-Ellis and his baseball bat warily. "So where's the girl you were with?"

"On her own. She'll be fine - she's a tough girl." I answered, and Not-Ellis nodded as he swung his bat around experimentally.

"I've got no doubt about that. Cracking dead heads keeps my swing in shape and the cabin fever at bay. Man gotta be comfortable with scant company - with keeping to himself." Not-Ellis then paused, and he gave me the once-over before speaking. "Say, you come from town? Any reception out there? Police, CB? Even that LPFM gospel channel, I ain't choosy."

"Nah, just dead air, from what I know." I answered truthfully. Even a murderer like him deserved that much, at least.

Not-Ellis sighed disappointedly as he planted his bat onto the concrete floor of the hangar. "This place is off the radar. So here I am, sitting with my thumb up my ass, tuning static."

The radio then chose to come to life at the moment, but Not-Ellis was quick to switch it off before I could hear anything sensitive, giving me a look as he did so. "Like I said. Dead. Air. Don't waste your time out at the mast. It ain't the kind of equipment you can patch up with duct tape and a wire hanger. No, you just keep on with whatever you gotta do. Elsewhere."

"Of course." I answered as I drew my gun. Before Not-Ellis could stop me, I had already switched off the Five-seveN's safety with my index finger before moving it to the trigger. Bang. Bang. Bang.

I lowered my smoking pistol as Not-Ellis lay dead on the floor, and the his mechanic's uniform were stained a dark red from his wounds - two shots to the chest, and one to his head. A perfectly-executed Mozambique Drill, if I do say so myself. "There's a fog rolling over Solomon Island, y'know. Dark days are coming. I might have done you a favor."


	20. Dead Air

As I propped Not-Ellis up against the wall and shut his eyelids with my fingers, I thought about what it was like for me to kill him, as well as Joe Slater. They had been easy decisions for me to make - almost too easy, in fact. It was disturbing, really, how much someone could change within the space of a few days.

As I stood up, I took the time to make some minute adjustments to the shoulder holster holding the Glock pistol that had once belonged to the man I just killed. Hidden inside of my jacket, it would make a good backup weapon if I happened to run out of ammo for my Five-seveN.

My phone buzzed as I got a call from Priscilla. "Hey, how's everything going on your end?"

"Well, I checked out the radio mast like you asked, and I'm guessing we're going to need a conductor and an amplifier to fix it, as well as some adhesive to put it all together. I'm thinking maybe a vacuum tube, a wire hanger, and some duct tape will do."

"That's it? Alright, you got it - I'll try and see what I can find. I'll meet you at the mast." I answered. As the call ended, I snorted to myself as I glanced at Not-Ellis's body. "Hear that, _Ellis_? It looks like this _is _equipment we can patch up with duct tape and a wire hanger."

The hangar that Ellis had holed himself up in had quite a few odds and ends in it, so it wasn't too hard to find what Priscilla needed to jury-rig the radio mast. Besides what she needed, I also found a handheld radio as well as some batteries to power it. After checking to see that the radio was in working order, I carried the supplies over to the control tower, where Priscilla was waiting.

Having no engineering experience myself, I was happy to leave fixing the radio mast to Priscilla so I could reload my gun's magazines with more bullets. As I loaded a fresh magazine into my Five-seveN, I looked up to see Priscilla stepping back from the mast to scrutinize her work. "Is it ready to go, Priscilla?"

She nodded, and we brought our smart phones out to record what we heard. The earlier static of our handheld radio had given way to a low drone now that the reception had been fixed, and a series of pings began to ring out, like a submarine radar or something. Then there was silence, save for the low drone coming over the radio. "…What the heck did we just listen to?"

"Morse code, I think." Priscilla answered, pursing her lips as she pulled out her smart phone and opened up the app store. A few minutes later, we managed to decode the message meant for Not-Ellis with the help of the new app on Priscilla's phone:

_drop location 712 536_

"Huh… That's weird…" Priscilla said, more to herself than to me as we both looked at the screen of her phone. "Whenever something like this happens, the Phoenicians usually just steal every magical artifact that isn't nailed down. However, if they're smuggling stuff in instead of out, just what are they planning on doing…?"

"So what's the plan?" I asked, and Priscilla thought a moment, pursing her lips as she did so before answering.

"I'll tell Sonnac that we're intercepting whatever the Phoenicians are dropping off. Who knows? Whatever we find could be useful in our search for Beaumont and his sword…"

* * *

As we neared the location of the airdrop, I could smell the salt of the sea and hear the sound of helicopter blades chopping through the air like giant knives twirling about. Following Priscilla's lead, I dropped low to the ground and began crawling on my elbows and knees to remain hidden in the beachgrass growing in the sand.

I risked a glance up into the sky to see an unmarked black helicopter hovering in the sky above a certain spot, and a large wooden crate was dropped from its open doors. The doors were then shut, and the helicopter flew away. Priscilla then nodded to me, and we both scrambled to our feet to get to where the crate had landed.

The crate had been dropped off at one of the beach's lower areas, which was surrounded on three sides by short rocky cliffs. Scrambling down the beach closer to sea level, we cautiously drew our guns as we neared the crate. As we drew closer and closer to the box, something seem to be rumbling from within the container, and when we got to within a few feet away from it, the wood of the container's face suddenly cracked with an ugly sound. We shielded ourselves just in time to block the splinters that were heading our way from the crate shattering, and we lowered our arms to see burning orange eyes stare back at us.

Standing amidst the wreckage of its wooden prison appeared to be some kind of giant, with dark skin like obsidian that seemed both tough and thick as well as strangely viscous. The monster had the whole Incredible Hulk look down pat, with the ragged shorts and rippling arm muscles, but what really got my attention was how _familiar _it looked. I pressed my lips into a thin line as I racked my brain, trying to figure out where exactly. Realization then struck me like a lightning bolt, and I paled as I was reminded of the vision I had of the Filth in Tokyo.

Bringing our guns up to fire, Priscilla and I wasted no time in trying to get as much lead into the Filth Hulk before it could close the gap between us. I swore as my Five-seveN's slide locked back, signifying that my magazine was out of ammo, but I didn't miss a beat as I swapped out the empty magazine for a new one. The beast roared as it charged towards us like a football player, but it staggered as a blue explosion from my fingertips blasted it in the face. I didn't let up on the firepower as Priscilla loaded more shells into her shotgun, and as the fire from my fingers died down, I saw that the beast's anterior had been charred to a deeper, darker black.

With one final snap of my fingers, the resulting explosion knocked the Filth Hulk onto its back, and it didn't move as it lay there in the sand. I lowered my hand as my adrenaline rush faded, and I felt Priscilla lay a hand on my shoulder as we both looked down upon the monster we had just killed. Many thoughts and questions were running through my mind as I gazed upon the beast, but one stood out among the rest: just what were the Phoenicians doing, bringing the Filth from Tokyo to Solomon Island?

* * *

"So in essence, you and Ms. Ross slew a monster of the Filth the Phoenicians have dropped off on Solomon Island?" Sonnac summed up over the phone, and I swallowed before answering in the affirmative. My handler then continued speaking. "Fascinating. You can set your watch by occult mercenaries arriving after an untoward event, and yet I'm alarmed you found them freighting cargo in. The usual order of business is to frantically ship out every object of power that is not warded down."

"Priscilla told me as much, sir, when we intercepted the message." I answered, and there was a pause as Sonnac took the time to think about what I had just reported him.

Finally, Sonnac spoke. "Your report begs the question: what do the Phoenicians stand to gain from making the situation on Solomon Island worse? You truly have tuned to a signal, to a foreshadowing of a much greater concern. I would advise you and Ms. Ross to steel yourselves to anticipate it. Once one starts tugging at a loose thread, all manner of unpleasant surprises come out."

"Understood, sir." I answered, and with that, I ended the call, leaving behind the drone of my phone.


	21. Dawning of an Endless Night - Tier 7

Some time after we had intercepted the Phoenicians' package, Priscilla and I stood outside the house marked on the map carelessly left by Beaumont. It was an old one, built Cape Cod style, and its faded whitewash gave it a forlorn look. The sky was getting darker now, and a breeze ruffled our hair as we stood outside the door to the seemingly-abandoned house. As I closed my eyes and tapped into my sixth sense, I could sense the ambient magic seeping out into the evening air from _below _the house as the smell of dusty old books and parchment.

"You sense it too, right?" I asked as I glanced at Priscilla next to me, and she nodded as she stepped forward to take a look around the house. Less than a minute later, we were both staring at a pair of old wooden doors blocking the stairway leading to the house's basement. They creaked loudly as we opened them, and as we slipped inside and closed the doors, we found ourselves in what appeared to be a library.

Fortunately for us, the lamps scattered all across the room were lit, though I had no idea where they were getting their electricity from. Intricate rugs of scarlet and gold material covered the faded wooden planks of the library's floor, and the dusty shelves were lined with ancient tomes, some of which were booby-trapped, judging by the cursed feeling coming from them. The whole place gave me the creeps, as if something was watching us from the shadows of the bookshelves. Drawing our guns, we proceeded cautiously into the room, on the lookout for any clues to Beaumont's whereabouts.

We tread cautiously through the length of the library, until we ended up in front of what appeared to be a metal vault door. There was cursive script carved into the steel:

_Find Balance,  
Face Death,  
Burn the Past,  
And climb the Pyramid.  
There, at the apex, his eyes will be opened._

On the right side of the vault door, there were unusually-shaped depressions in the solid steel frame. One was in the shape of a shallow circle, and two of them were in the shape of deeper half-domes. Another indentation was shaped like a bird, and the last went deep into the metal in the shape of a triangle. They were obviously important, and as we made eye contact, I knew Priscilla was thinking the same thing. She then voiced both our thoughts aloud. "Let's split up and start looking."

Priscilla and I went our separate ways as we searched the library for the vault's keys, though our paths soon converged as we both ended up in front of the same wooden display case. Several carved skulls of varying materials were separated from our fingertips by glass, though only one — the metal human skull — glowed with magic when viewed with the sixth sense. The display case was locked, of course, but that didn't pose much of a problem, as Priscilla decided to punch through the glass in order to get to the human skull inside.

As Priscilla handed me the metal skull, I turned the skull in my hands this way and that to look at the carvings. "Alas, poor Yorrick. I knew him, Priscilla — a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy."

Priscilla rolled her eyes as she beckoned for me to follow her. A few minutes later, we returned to the vault door, having collected the rest of the metal symbols needed: a ying-and-yang symbol, a figurine of a bird with its wings outstretched, a pyramid, and finally, a sphere carved to look like an eyeball.

As we pushed the keys into place, they locked in tight with magic. Upon inserting the eyeball, the last piece of the puzzle, the handle of the vault door spun on its own, and the vault door swung open silently. Peering cautiously inside with our flashlights, Priscilla and I were just in time to see the ceiling of the narrow stone passageway collapse.

A growling sound then filled the air as a beast formed from the shadows. It looked like a giant wolf, but with the sharp, black bristles of a porcupine, and its blue eyes crackled with electricity as it glared at us with unadulterated killing intent. Priscilla then spoke for us both as it readied itself to pounce.

"Oh, this is gonna _suck_…"

* * *

We got out of the guardian's way just in time to avoid getting our faces ripped off by sharp, gnashing teeth, and as it landed nimbly on its feet and rounded towards us, Priscilla and I immediately split up to split the monster's attention. This thing wasn't like anything I had ever fought before. Unlike the Frankies and Smurfs, who were strong but comfortably slow, this four-legged bruiser moved like lightning. I yelped in fear as the monster crashed into a bookshelf and sent its contents onto the floor, but it recovered quickly, and I felt a shiver go up my spine as it stared a hole into the small of my back.

Adrenaline coursed through me as I rounded the corner of a bookshelf and ran as fast as I could to avoid becoming monster chow, and from behind me, I heard a shotgun blast and a yelp of pain from the monster. Now that the monster was focused on Priscilla, I could focus on counterattacking by emptying my Five-seveN's magazine into its exposed hide. My salvo didn't seem to faze the monster at all as it knocked Priscilla onto her back, and I heard it growl and gnash its teeth as it struggled against Priscilla's strength.

Discarding my Five-seveN, I then thrust both my hands forward for lightning to leap off my fingertips and into the monster's rump. It yowled in pain as it leapt away from Priscilla, who scrambled to her feet and pumped another shell into her Mossberg 500. As we braced ourselves for another assault, a column of flame then rocketed towards the monster. The vault's guardian howled in pain as it was charred to a crisp, and it dissipated into inky shadow and ashes. "Goddamn…"

As our adrenaline rushes faded to reveal just how exhausted we were, Priscilla and I looked to see a man in a cowboy hat pocket what looked like a silver Zippo lighter. Fangs hung from his throat and the sides of his heavens as earrings and a necklace, and well-muscled forearms were exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. He circled around us like a wolf as he spoke. "Well, you're lucky Boone's been keeping tabs on the two of you, and that I got here when I did."

"You know Boone?" I asked, and I then shook my head. "Wait, scratch that - just who the hell are you?"

"The name's John Wolf. I'm Boone's partner." The man answered as he glanced at the guns in our hands. "Next time, do us all a favor and don't go hunting lions with peashooters — know your prey."

Priscilla grimaced at that. "So what are you and Mr. Boone doing out here in Solomon Island, anyway?"

"We've been waiting for something to happen out here." Wolf answered. "It's been in the earth, in the air… It's why Boone and me came out here even before the fog. There's power on Solomon Island, the kind that spreads… Filth — and it's waking up."

Wolf then knelt down next to the guardian's ashes, and as he scooped some of it up, it fell back onto the floor in a fine black dust. "My friend Jack is fond of saying he's seen the worst of what this world has to offer, but he's dead wrong. That was just the beginning. I always knew worse things were headed our way, and now they've arrived."

Wolf then stood back up and regarded us carefully as he began pacing again. "The man you're chasing carries something powerful and potentially dangerous. I'll do what I can to help, though I lack your particular talents."

He chuckled a little as he snapped his fingers for a tiny orange flame to burst into life above his thumb. "Hell, it took me thirty years of looking to learn how to cast a simple spell. Nope — I get too close to that artifact, it's a bad deal all around. I hear the whispers even now, and I don't have your natural defenses. I'm afraid of what it might do to me, and what it might make me do to all of _you_."

"If you don't mind us asking, what do you know about the artifact?" I asked, and Wolf sighed before answering.

"I've been doing some digging. As far as I can tell, this relic is what brought the fog here, or at least what controls it. Whoever wields it holds the fate of Solomon Island in their hands…"

"We figured as much. Know anything about these tunnels?"

Wolf nodded as he then pointed into the tunnel that had just caved in. "I can't tell you where that tunnel leads, but the Illuminati dug, and dug _deep_ when they ruled this island. It's a network that stretches from Kingsmouth in the east, to the academy in the west."

"Are there any leads you could give us?" Priscilla asked, and Wolf thought a moment before answering.

"I don't know where this tunnel leads, but it's somewhere west of here, near Innsmouth Academy." Wolf then slid a hand back into his pocket. "Here, kid — catch."

My hand shot up to snatch whatever Wolf had tossed me, and I looked to see that it was the silver Zippo lighter from earlier, and that it had a magic circle etched into the chrome. Tapping into my sixth sense, I could tell that it had been enchanted, though I couldn't tell what it did. "Thanks, I guess, but what am I supposed to do with this?"

"It's been enchanted so that it can use anima stored into it to strengthen any fire spell channeled through it — kind of like an electric guitar's amplifier. I figure you'll put it to better use than I will."

"Okay, that's pretty cool." I admitted as I looked down at the lighter and remembered how Wolf had incinerated the monster to death with it. "What else can it do?"

"You can also wave it around at rock concerts and use it to light cigarettes and pipes, if you ever decide to take up smoking in the future."

"Nice… But I don't feel like getting myself lung cancer anytime soon." Wolf and Priscilla both chuckled at that, and the former turned his back on us to leave. As he got out of sight, I flipped the lighter open, and pouring a bit of my magical energy into it, I flicked my thumb down sharply on the striker wheel to create a plume of blue flame. "Whoa!"

Pocketing my new weapon, I then turned to Priscilla. "Ready to head west?"

"Of course."


	22. Carter Unleashed

Founded and constructed in 1798 — and rebuilt in 1852, 1906 and 1967, after, respectively, a devastating fire, an earthquake, and the opening of a dimensional portal in the elementalism lab — Innsmouth Academy seemed like just your average super-exclusive private school for snobby rich kids situated on Solomon Island. It certainly seemed that way as Priscilla and I looked at the brick buildings of the campus from the broken-down iron gates, but even though I had been a part of the Secret World for less than two weeks, I knew better than to just stop at the surface.

According to the intelligence Priscilla and I received from Sonnac, Innsmouth Academy's actually an educational facility for the children of Secret Worlders affiliated with the Illuminati, although the school sometimes admits exceptionally gifted students and faculty from other societies. It's considered one of the premier occult prep schools of the secret world, and a diploma from Innsmouth Academy opens many doors for a budding magus and occultist. As we walked towards the main building, I briefly wondered what it'd be like to study here as I suppressed a sneeze from the smell of anima warding the campus.

As we walked up to the front door, I tapped into my sixth sense to see that there was a layer of anima covering the door, but I couldn't tell what it was for. Luckily for me, Priscilla was much more experienced than me and was there to tell me. "It's there to alert whoever set it up to people who come knocking on the door."

With that said, Priscilla rapped her knuckles on the door, and we wait patiently. A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal a man dressed in a business suit and blue rubber surgical gloves on his hands. "Good evening. I am Hayden Montag, headmaster of Innsmouth Academy. I take it that you both are mages?"

"My name is Priscilla Ross, and this is Chase Mercer. We're from London." Priscilla said, and Mr. Montag nodded as he beckoned us inside the building. Closing the door behind us, he led us through the entrance hall to one of the classrooms, where two other people were staring at an old-fashioned computer sitting atop the teacher's desk. "Carter, Miss Usher, meet Priscilla and Chase of the Templars."

"Ah, you're trailing our mythical weapon of mass destruction then?" The older of the two people asked in a Scottish accent as she looked away from the computer screen. If I had to guess, I'd say that she was in her thirties, dressed in a red business suit and skirt with her brown hair tied back.

"How'd you know?" I asked.

"Educated guess." The woman I presumed to be Miss Usher answered as Mr. Montag walked over to the window to gaze outside with his gloved hands behind his back.

"They're not too late, right?" The other person at the computer spoke up in a girl's voice. If she hadn't spoken, I might've mistaken her for a dude, with her short brown hair and bloodstained hoodie. She was about my age, maybe a year or two older at the most, and the anima radiating from her was unbelievable. Just looking at her through my sixth sense made my eyes water. Montag and Usher were no laughing matters, either.

"I sure hope not. I've a reputation to uphold as the only thing that's Scottish and dangerous on the island." Miss Usher sighed before continuing. "I should've called in the cavalry as soon as it turned up, but honestly, it caught me with my metaphysical knickers down. I had no idea what it was."

"It's not like it's your fault, Miss Usher." Carter said. "No one's ever removed anything from the academy before and gotten through the wards. At least, not in one piece."

"Yeah." Priscilla agreed. "From what I could tell, this place is — well, _was _— built like a castle. It must've taken some serious thaumaturgical power to break through."

"It still could've gone better…" Miss Usher said with another sigh as she looked down at the floor. She then looked back up at us. "Anyway, I suspect whoever possesses the weapon lacks the knowledge required to use it — and they'll be looking for answers. The Illuminati built this place with secret passages and tunnels out the wazoo. Supposedly, all their records, covering centuries of occult lore, are kept in an archive, but the archive is hidden."

"Wait — the one below the school?" Carter interrupted, and the three of us turned to look at her.

"Below the school?" Miss Usher repeated, and then sighed yet again. "I hate it when I repeat things…"

"So what do you know about it?" I asked Carter.

"I-I kind of… _heard_ about this full-on Illuminati vault. Like, the seniors might've tried to crack the lock a few times… or something. You can see through the floorboards in the old block… I heard."

"Ah,_ that_ Illuminati archive…" Mr. Montag said, nodding as he turned to look at us, and Miss Usher stared at him in shock.

"Tell me you're pulling my leg!"

"No… Well…" Mr. Montag began. "I couldn't discount a sudden manifestation of unconscious telekinesis."

Miss Usher then turned towards me and Priscilla, exasperated. "Well then — there you are. The 'secret' Illuminati archives, lost to the ages."

"Thanks for the info." Priscilla said. "Hey, do you mind if we spend the night here? We've spent all day running all over the island in search of the sword, and we could use a good night's sleep."

"Not a problem. There are some spare sleeping bags lying about somewhere, and you can find the 'secret' archives in the morning." Miss Usher answered as she regarded me in particular. Priscilla and I nodded our thanks as we turned to begin unpacking Priscilla's duffel bag.

* * *

Today had been a long day, and right now, all I wanted was to kick back with my earbuds and listen to music. As I was doing just that while leaning back against the wall, I noticed that a shadow had passed over my legs, and I glanced up to see Carter tapping her ears. After I had taken them off expectantly, she began to speak while wringing her hands nervously. "Uh, hey Chase. Can I… talk to you? Chosen one to, y'know… chosen one?"

"Sure, Carter, what do you wanna talk about?" I asked as I stood up from where I was sitting.

"About a big problem." Carter answered. "Obviously not as big a problem as all the other big problems you and Priscilla are dealing with outside those walls, but still — help?"

"Sure, fire away." I asked as I leaned casually against the wall. Carter seemed a bit more at ease now, and she took a deep breath to calm herself down before continuing to speak.

"Okay, so… the Practical Alchemy class keeps racks of replacement familiars hung up in the basement — at least a dozen for every student." Carter began. "Now they're going berserk — a whole army of creepy dolls right under our feet. Normally, they'd die without their creator supplying them with anima, but something's keeping them alive…"

"And I take it you wanna get rid of it?" I asked, and Carter nodded.

"Miss Usher and Mr. Montag want me on the bench for this game, and I know it's to keep their star player from getting injured mid-season, but it feels more like being in the penalty box. I want to step up to bat. I-I mean, I wanna help out. I can use my powers — the really freaky ones. You know they warded the school from the inside because of me? I'm tired of being scared of it — being made sick by it!

Carter then glanced off to the side. "Maybe that's how my powers want to be used — for me to just say the words and tear it all down."

"And you need my help because…" I prompted.

"Look, if I set it off, I kinda need someone to make sure I can stop again — like a chaperone."

"Oh, so I get to chaperone a walking magical thermonuclear reactor?" A nervous nod from Carter answered me. "Well, this'll be interesting, at the very least. What's your plan?"

"As soon as everyone has gone to sleep, I'll come wake you up so we can put the plan into action secretly." Carter said as she reached into the pocket of her blood-spattered jacket to pull out a strange device. Handing it to me, she said, "This is a ward generator — it'll protect you when I start using my heavier spells. So… tonight?"

"Tonight." I reaffirmed as I offered her my hand. We shook on it, and we both went off to retire for the night until it was time.

* * *

"Psst! Hey — you awake?" Carter's voice hissed quietly, and my eyes blinked open as I looked up at Carter. Resisting the urge to moan in exhaustion, I crawled out of my sleeping bag slowly as to not wake up Priscilla sleeping nearby. Grabbing the Zippo lighter and the ward generator hidden underneath my jacket lying in a heap next to my sleeping bag, I left my guns in their holsters behind followed Carter on tiptoe to Innsmouth Academy's entrance hall.

As I put on the Glock's shoulder holster over my jacket, I hesitated for a moment before drawing the pistol and offering it to Carter grip first. "Hey, wanna take one of my pistols? I got a Five-seveN right here, so I don't really need it."

Carter shook her head, and I holstered the Glock as she did so. "Don't worry, I won't need it. I'm tougher than I look. Let's go."

As we stepped into the chilly basement together, I used the Zippo lighter John Wolf gave me to conjure up a blue fireball for warmth and light, and Carter shivered as she snapped her fingers for the same effect, except that the fireball was a normal orange. "Ugh, I can't believe this seemed like a good idea. Got that ward generator handy? Okay, it's this way."

While I was content to let Carter take point, I nevertheless kept my lighter at the ready to back her up. Perhaps in order to try and keep the faint whispers from getting to her, Carter began making small talk with me. "So, uh… How's your super-story going so far?"

"Well…" I began as I thought of Joe Slater and Not-Ellis. "It's not bad, all things considered, but not especially great, either. Certainly not what I had in mind when I joined the Templars."

"I know how that goes — swallowed a bee, wrecked your place, blah blah blah." Carter answered, nodding. "They say we're gifted, and I don't wanna come across like a spoiled brat or anything, but gee, some gift! Scared off my friends, my family, any chance for a normal life. I even creeped out the other students here at, you know, Hogwarts. To be honest, though, I can't really blame them. Sometimes when I dream, it gives my roommates nosebleeds. Not to get all Emo Allen Poe about it, but that doesn't really make me BFF material."

"Well, I dunno. You seem like a pretty cool and well adjusted girl, even if you are a magical atomic bomb on legs." I remarked honestly. "Back in my high school, I wasn't all that popular either. I mean, I wasn't at the bottom of the food chain, but I wasn't exactly getting invited to all the coolest parties, either. I was just… there — an extra in someone else's movie. But hey — so long as you aren't going to intentionally Hiroshimafy me, I'm good."

Carter chuckled darkly at that. "Wow, I wish I was _that_ lucky. Here, I'm pretty much the outcast loner chick with the dark secret, just like in my friend Danny Dufresne's comics. He's sweet, and kind, and more worried if I like his corny 80s movies than whether my powers are gonna fry us both. It's pretty cool. To not be judged by a normal person. That is, mostly normal. I think there's something in the water in Kingsmouth."

I actually laughed aloud at that — a real, full-bodied laugh that wasn't faked at all. It actually wasn't all that funny, but it felt good to laugh again, as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. At least for a little while. "So what exactly do you learn here?"

Carter began going on about her different classes, and I was impressed by just how many types of magic there were. "…Miss Usher has done her best to prepare me for the future. She warned me that there'll be people who will try to exploit my gifts — kinda like having the 'strangers with candy' talk, you know, but with magic. I know this academy is owned by the Illuminati, and they don't give anything out for free. They'll want something in return for my education, right? Giving back to secret society. I've already been offered a full scholarship at Oxford — the magical one — and I got a weird note with some Chinese signs on it. At least, it looked Chinese to me."

Carter sighed as she walked before continuing. "The thing is, I don't want to 'use' my gifts for anything. All I want is to learn how to control them, so I won't have to use them, if that makes any sense."

"Yeah, I get where you're coming from…" I answered, nodding. I then heard something rasp softly from somewhere within the darkness. "Wait. Did you hear that?"

My vigilance was rewarded as the crazed familiars Carter had been talking about came shrieking out of the shadows. Sparks flew from the lighter's striker wheel, and a hose of flame brought down the creepy flesh puppets as if their strings had been cut. Carter helped out by throwing in some lightning to the mix to stun the familiar while I roasted them alive.

As the last of the familiars burned to death, I cautiously lowered my weapon only to hear more of them coming. Then Carter spoke up with fierce determination. "Just so you know — things are about to get kind of gross…"

I took that as a warning to activate the ward generator, and with the push of a button, a force field of anima surrounded me on all sides. Tearing my gaze away from the meat puppets trying to claw their way through my barrier, I then looked to see Carter rise up into the air, her hands burning. She then crossed her arms in a X-shape in front of her chest before suddenly stretching them outwards, and my vision went white as I was caught in the blast of her attack.

As my vision cleared and my force field disappeared, I saw Carter standing amidst the ashes of what I assumed to be the incinerated familiars. "Whoa… That was awesome! You killed all of them by yourself!"

Carter's face turned pink at the praise as she stared down at her hands. "I've never gone this far. I mean, with my powers." She then looked back up at me with a new glint in her eyes. "I think I like it. Come on, let's go."

We picked up the pace from there, and we raced past wooden crates containing who-knows-what as we made our way through the absurdly spacious basement of Innsmouth Academy. Lone familiars ambushed us as we passed by, but all we had to do was get in a good magical blast in order to put them down for good.

We paused to catch our breath as we came across a set of stairs leading deeper underground, and my sixth sense told me that the was the source of all our troubles was down here. "Think this is the place?"

Carter nodded as she took point, and I followed her down below into a large room, where an abominable mass of flesh lay atop a round concrete dais with steps leading up to it. Segments of giant metal pipe were piled up all around, and smaller ones supported the ceiling alongside metal scaffolding. The mass of flesh then began to rise, and we watched in horror as the thick limbs of the abomination revealed itself.

I wasted no time in beginning my barrage of fire, while Carter took a little longer to catch on. Together, our flames converged into a massive assault on the giant hunk of meat, but aside from the loud, long grunt it gave as the fire ate away, it seemed unaffected. As it began barreling towards us, I saw Carter freeze up, and I shouted to her as I pushed her out of the monster's way before running in the opposite direction. "Keep your wits about you or you're going to get killed!"

Since fire didn't seem to be working, I decided to go for a different approach, and as I thrust my fist forward, the ice that had encased it within seconds now flew towards the monster as frozen shrapnel. The icy projectiles embedded themselves into the monster's arm like daggers as it blocked my attack, and then it suddenly roared as electricity glowed on its back, courtesy of Carter. "Chase, get ready with that ward!"

"Already on it!" I said as I hit the button. As the ward sprang up to defend me, my senses were immediately assaulted by the anima coming from the supernova that was Carter's magic. My eardrums burst as my vision turned white, and the now-familiar smell of burning flesh entered my nostrils as I was knocked flat onto my back in a daze. An eternity and a day seemed to pass before my vision had cleared enough to see Carter standing over me with her hand extended.

Grabbing hold of her hand, I pulled myself back up onto my feet, and Carter let me have a few moments to regain my bearings before holding her hand towards me again. "The whispering's stopped. We better get back. Let's make this our secret, deal?"

"Deal." I said as we shook on it. There are some experiences you just can't share with someone without befriending them, and slaying a bunch of crazed familiars and their meaty master is one of them.

* * *

_There's no denying that, from what you've told me, the girl shows some rudimentary promise. Unfortunately for her, she's a product of the Illuminati's flawed education system, and as such, will need constant supervision less she spontaneously combusts the entire world around her._

_Fortunately for her, she had you to guide and temper her powers, making sure their application was focused in the appropriate direction._

_While we should not make a habit of cleaning up the Illuminati's messes, I most certainly approve of the cleaning up of this particular mess. Additionally, one can only hope that your sophisticated tutelage has had a positive influence on the girl._

_R. Sonnac_


	23. Dawning of an Endless Night - Tier 8

The Old Block of Innsmouth Academy was a smaller building behind the main one, and it was made of faded brick, with ivy crawling up the smooth white pillars in front of the front door. As we approached the front door, I opened the door with the key Headmaster Montag had given us, and I pushed it open for Priscilla as she took point with her Mossberg 500.

As I followed close behind with my Five-seveN in hand, the decrepit floorboards creaked under our feet, as if they were trying to warn us to turn back. If so, we didn't heed them as our eyes scanned the rundown first floor of the Old Block for anything unusual. The place gave me the creeps, and it wasn't just because of the chance that Beaumont could be down there in the Illuminati's archives with a powerful artifact.

We eventually swept through the entire ground floor to come across a larger room that was furnished a bit more nicely than the relatively empty ones we assumed to be old classrooms. Maybe it was a teacher's lounge or something. A bookshelf lined the wall to the left of the door, and two leather couches sat on the sides of a red rug and wooden coffee table. To our right, papers were scattered all over a section of the floor, while a locked cabinet sat in the corner next to a lamp.

However, it was the floorboards in front of the ancient desk that got our attention. As I stepped onto them, then sank under my feet more noticeably than the other wooden planks. I frowned as I lifted my foot up to put it back down on the same spot, and I confirmed that I wasn't just imagining things. "Hey, Priscilla! Come take a look at these!"

As she came over, I showed her how the wooden planks sank deeper than the others when I stepped on them. After confirming the fact for herself, she kneeled down onto the floor and drew her combat knife to wedge it into the seam between the planks. With no effort on her part, she lifted the plank easily to reveal a stone stairway beneath the floorboards. We shared a meaningful glance, and without being told, I drew my own knife and began helping her to remove the planks.

Within a few minutes, we had opened up a hole wide enough for us to access the stairway below. After climbing down below the Old Block, we reached the bottom of the stairway only to be met with a locked door with no handle. "Think you can bust your way through, Priscilla?"

Priscilla shook her head as she closed our eyes and put a hand on the door. "No — this door's been warded to prevent that. If we want a way in, we've got to find the keys and put 'em in these."

She indicated the depressions in the wall next to the door, and they were similar to the ones back at the old house. As we shone our flashlights onto the wood of the door, we could read something carved onto the flat surface:

_The Order of Great Works_

_All things in their Place under Stars:  
The stone Lodges Erected  
To the Watchful Eye  
Upon the Bones of the Opposers  
And their Symbols, buried_

Glancing at the depressions in the wall again, I took note of their shapes. One was shaped like the Star of David, and another resembled the square and compasses that were the symbols of the Freemasons. A half-dome indentation was placed above a smaller one, and I recognized the bottom one to be the cross of the Templars. "Think the Illuminati would been kind enough to leave the keys lying around for us?"

Priscilla snorted at that as she readied her shotgun. "Not without protection. Let's see if we can find them."

We climbed out of the hole we had made in the floor back onto the first floor, and we began searching for the keys to the archives. We soon find the metallic Star of David lying atop a teacher's desk, but as I made to grab it, a monster appeared from the shadows in the corner. It wore black finery over the snow white skin of its humanoid form, and its black "hair" flickered like a flame as its twisted face hissed at me. I went with my first instinct and brought my gun up to fire, but it went transparent in time to let the bullet pass harmlessly through it and into the wall.

As the creature turned opaque again, it raised a long-fingered hand in order to claw me across the face. Luckily, Priscilla was there watching out for me, and the monster screeched in pain as it was struck in the shoulder with a 12-gauge shotgun slug. "It's a spectre! Shoot it when it's solid, and use magic when it isn't!"

"Got it!" I said as I brought out the Zippo lighter and thumbed the striker wheel just as the spectre turned transparent. It let out a horrible wail as its ectoplasm burned away from a hose of flame, and as the last of it was incinerated, I flicked the chrome lid of the lighter back on with grim satisfaction at the nice black scorch mark I had left on the wall facing me. This thing was getting me pretty good mileage, and I resolved to thank John Wolf should we ever meet again.

Grabbing the first of the five keys to the Illuminati vault, Priscilla and I began hunting for the other four. Each one was guarded by a spectre, and each monstrous defender fell either to hot lead or hot flame, allowing us to claim what they were guarding. With the masonic symbol, eye, skull, and cross in hand, we returned triumphant to the archive's door, where we inserted the keys into the depressions in the wall. As the Templar cross was finally fitted into place, it sank by itself into the wall along with the other keys, and the door swung open silently on its hinges for the two of us to enter the archives.

The hallways of the Illuminati archives were lined with bookshelves full of ancient grimoires, and I just couldn't take my eyes off at how much knowledge was stored here. Despite my curiosity, I kept myself focused on the task at hand, and we cautiously peered around the corners of bookshelves with our guns at the ready. Eventually, Priscilla and I came across a fork in the corridors, and I could see Priscilla purse her lips as she began thinking of a plan. "Hey, maybe we should split up. That way, we can cover more ground faster."

"No — absolutely not." Priscilla rejected immediately. "I won't have you running into Beaumont and the artifact all by yourself. No — you're staying right on my ass, where it's safe."

"Hey, I'm not stupid enough to think I can just take Beaumont all by myself." I said hotly. "All I'm suggesting is that we split up in order to _find _Beaumont, not fight him on our own. If one of us finds him, they can tail him until the other can catch up."

Finally, Priscilla nodded grudgingly as she saw the logic of my plan. "Fine — but do _not_, under _any _circumstance, confront Beaumont. If you do, _I'll _kill you if Beaumont doesn't."

"Duly noted." I answered dryly as I took the proffered earpiece from Priscilla's hand and replaced one of my special earplugs with it. "So… I take left, you take right?"

Priscilla nodded slowly, and with one last look, she left me on my own. However, there was just one small, but _very _important piece of advice that I forgot when formulating my plan:

Never _ever _split the party.

* * *

As luck would have it, I was the first to find Beaumont, who was reading a book lying open atop a pedestal in an alcove. I pressed my lips together to keep in a gasp as I saw the sword in his hand, still sheathed inside an unremarkable scabbard made of brown leather.

The power coming from the sword was _incredible _— the sound its magic manifested itself as when I tapped into my sixth sense nearly deafened me despite my earplugs, like an ethereal choir with its volume cranked up to eleven. Its wielder was no laughing matter, either — he outclassed both me and Priscilla combined.

Beaumont then looked up from his book, and then spoke, the back of his long black-haired head still facing my direction. "Come out from your hiding place, little boy. It isn't polite to spy on people. And don't pretend you're not there; I can feel your presence right behind that bookshelf."

Aw, crap. Pressing a finger to a button on my earpiece in order to talk, I whispered into the microphone to Priscilla. "Crap, he's found me! Hurry before I get magically nuked into oblivion!"

I came out from behind the bookshelf, holding my gun as I held both of my hands up like a perp in front of a cop. "Beaumont."

Beaumont turned around and regarded me for a moment before the corners of his mouth twisted into a sneer. "Templar. I suppose you called for backup? Your lot always travels in packs."

I didn't answer that one, and I did my best to remain calm, but it was hard not to panic in front of this guy. Beaumont, however, seemed perfectly casual as he looked me dead in the eye. "I take it that this is the portion of the conversation where I reveal my plans to you?"

"Yeah, pretty much." I said. Good — the evil overlord _isn't _killing me on the spot. If I had been watching this on television or something, I would've called him out for his stupidity at this point, but since I wasn't, I was all for letting him monologue until the cavalry arrived. "Come on, what have you got to lose?"

Beaumont snorted at that as he rolled his eyes. "I'm wounded by the lack of respect that implies. Really, I am.

I gritted my teeth at that. I had to give it to this guy, though — he was good. "I see you've read the Evil Overlord List."

Beaumont chuckled darkly at that. "Yes, yes, I have. Still, I suppose I can humor you — just a little. I've been in exile for a very long time, you know. I was forced by false prophets to flee my homeland in disguise — degrade myself by pretending to be something I'm not, to be much less than I truly am. I spent a long time cursing my kind, planning my revenge and victorious return. Eventually, I got on with my life, and now, _they're_ all dead and forgotten by those who once worshipped them. There's a lesson in there somewhere, I'm sure."

I kept silent as I let Beaumont pace as he monologued. Come on, Priscilla, where the hell are you…? "Thing is, I'm ready to be myself once again — no more disguises. Their false prophecies perished with the white god. _I'm_ free, and I don't plan on anything…"

Beaumont then drew the long sword from its sheath, dropping the latter onto the floor, and I looked at it in awe as he made a few slow sweeps with it in the air. It had a bit of a futuristic vibe to it, and it was made of some kind of metal long since forgotten to mankind, the groove running down the center of the blade pulsed with orange anima as the weapon set its blade on fire. Beaumont looked at it, a greedy glint in his eyes as they reflected the glow of the sword. "…Or any_one_ changing that. It's beautiful, isn't it? And to think this thing was out there all along, while I wasted my time chasing a _fucking _hammer."

Beaumont then began glaring a hole into me as he spoke, gesturing with his free hand as the other was occupied holding the sword's hilt. "I got what I came for, and I need to be moving on. Places to go, spells to cast… _Gods_ to wake… Spoiler alert: we'll fight, I'll win, you'll track me down again just in time to watch your world tumble into chaos. Title scroll, lights come back up… Oh wait, no. They won't."

"So what are you gonna do with me now?" I asked with a morbid curiosity, and in response, Beaumont raised his sword so that its tip was almost touching my chest. "Why, kill you, of course. Just because you're only a snot-nosed teenager doesn't mean I'll spare you — I don't like leaving matters unresolved. I'll do it cleanly and painlessly — none of the fancy stuff. I'm not _that_ sort of villain, no stage magician. I take pride in my work, and I'm not afraid to get my hands… _filthy. _Farewell, _Templar_…"

Before I could even move to defend myself, I felt a sharp pain in my chest — Beaumont had already thrust the tip of the sword straight through my T-shirt and into my heart. I stared in shock as Beaumont withdrew the blade from my chest — and it was covered in _my _blood. As I registered this crucial fact, I suddenly found myself bleeding out onto the carpeted stone floor as I heard Beaumont walk away with the sword, leaving behind the sword's scabbard as he went. As darkness slowly creeped into the edges of my vision, the last thing I remembered before blacking out was the sound of footsteps running towards me and someone calling out my name.

"CHASE!"


	24. Dawning of an Endless Night - Tier 9

In the cold blackness where I had been deposited after Beaumont stabbed me, I had plenty of time to contemplate the last few days. When the Templars picked me up, I had kinda thought it was fate. I thought I had been prepared for whatever this mission would throw at me, but I never thought it'd go _anything_ like this — never in a million years…

If I had known what would have happened to me on Solomon Island, I would've let Priscilla talk Sonnac out of letting me come. I didn't want to die — not when I still had so much to live for. Fifteen years… snuffed out by a stupid wish of wanting to play hero. And Mom… Oh God, _Mom_…

I then became aware of music growing louder and louder from within the void, and I strained my nonexistent ears in order to figure out what it was. I soon identified it as being similar to the fairylike voices of Beaumont's sword, but the sound was much more soothing to listen to compared to the subtle belligerence laying beneath the surface of a sword's music. It made me feel comfortably warm, like sleeping next to a fireplace Cinderella style.

Then the warmth began to center on the middle of my chest, growing uncomfortably hot until it felt like I was being slowly run through the chest again with a white hot blade. I cried out in pain as the heat slowly dug deeper and deeper into my unseen flesh, and then in my mind's eye, a shape made of pure light appeared.

It was an unusual one to my addled mind, as it looked like a rectangle, but then I noticed that the shape subtly curved into a blunt point at the bottom. It shone as bright as the sun, but strangely enough, I wasn't blinded from staring so long at it. Then the glow of the shape faded away along with the white hot pain to reveal itself to be the scabbard of some sword, though I thought I had a pretty good guess which sword that was, judging by the design of the scabbard.

Orange anima pulsed down the middle of the scabbard like the beating of a heart, and I was sure the metal was the exact same material used to forge Beaumont's sword. The tip of the scabbard appeared to be missing, as if it had been crudely cut off, and the stump of metal glowed orange like a flashlight. The scabbard slowly dispersed into particles of orange anima as it sank deeper and deeper into the void, and as the sheath resumed its course, the pain had gone back to the pleasant and warm sensation it had been before. To be honest though, this wasn't a bad last experience to have before shuffling off the mortal coil. However, I didn't want to die — not without a fight, at least…

Eventually, all good things must come to an end, and the song was no different as the scabbard disappeared from view, leaving only a few specks of orange anima behind. Thus, my silent, inner struggle began. I clung to the semblance of consciousness I had for as long as I could, but I could feel myself slipping against my awareness, like fingers trying to seize a handful of a cloth held taut. Deeper and deeper, I sank into the blackness of unconsciousness, until finally, I gave in to the inevitable. Before I blacked out for good, though, a single word blazed across my mind in blazing orange cursive.

"Avalon…"

* * *

An eternity later, I became dimly aware of something making noise next to me. I let out a slurred groan as I muttered something incomprehensible in a feeble attempt to try and get it to stop. The white noise soon cleared up into a more understandable form, namely the sound of a familiar voice calling out my name. "Chase? Are you awake?"

"Huh…?" I said groggily as I tried to make out who was speaking through my eyelashes. "Oh… Yeah… I'm awake, but… How am I still alive?"

As the image in my eyes grew clear, I saw Priscilla hanging above me, and she wiped something from the corner of her eye that I suspected to be a tear before answering. "I'm not too sure about the how, but I have a good guess as to the reason _why_.

"See, when I found you bleeding out on the floor, I suddenly picked up on something _powerful _with my sixth sense coming from the… scabbard thingy on the floor. I guess Beaumont must've left it behind, though I have no idea how something with that much anima managed to slip under his radar. At the time, though, I was trying to bring you back from the dead. Anyway, with Beaumont gone, the artifact revealed its true power and form, and I could see it causing your wound to close up by itself slowly. Look — you can even see the results from the great big hole in your shirt."

As I propped myself up onto my elbows, I looked down at myself to see that she was right. Sure, there was a hole in my T-shirt that I would have to take care of later, but there was no sign on my skin that I had ever been stabbed by a (quite possibly) primordial weapon of magical mass destruction at all. "Okay, but… what happened next? What happened to the scabbard?"

"Well…" Priscilla pursed her lips before continuing. "It then floated over to your body, and it kinda… stabbed you through the heart. You cried out as it sank into your body, but you got real quiet as it disappeared into your body. Heck, I'm not even sure if what I saw was even real at all — you don't seem any different, aside from… you know. Coming back from the dead."

Before replying, I ran some anima through me to try and get a feel for my condition, and there it was. The magical presence of the scabbard, Avalon, was faint, but I could still feel it pulsing slightly as it floated amidst my magic contentedly. "Huh… Well, at the very least, you weren't hallucinating. I can feel something foreign inside of me, but barely."

"Well, you're alive, and that's all that matters." Priscilla said firmly as she gestured for me to get back up onto my feet. "Let's not look the gift horse in the mouth. Now come on — we gotta get out of here if we want to catch Beaumont in time."

"Right." I said, and together, we began searching for a way out. As we traced our steps back to the entrance of the archives, we both sighed as we saw that the way out had been collapsed. "Figures Beaumont would try to get rid of the obvious way out, but there's gotta be another way out of this mess…"

As we navigated the spaces in between the bookshelves of the Illuminati archive, we made sure to keep our weapons at the ready in case something decided to get the jump on us. However, nothing did, as they were all dead and lying in front of a single pedestal. "What the hell…?"

A grotesque giant made of raw flesh lay on its back, a smoking hole blown through it, and all around it, monsters similar to the familiars Carter and I had put down lay dead, having met the same fate. They seemed to have been killed while making a desperate last stand against Beaumont as he reached for whatever they had been guarding. I barely spared the dead bodies a glance as Priscilla and I stepped over the remnants of the massacre to reach the open book still lying on the pedestal.

The pages of the book itself were handwritten and yellow with age, though what really got our attention was the smudged card paper-clipped to one of them. It looked fairly new, and it was neatly typed, with the Illuminati's blue pyramid emblazoned on the bottom right corner.

_Frank R. Devore  
The Devore Mansion  
Solomon Island_

_Devore founded the Blue Ridge Mine and built the Devore Mansion in 1876. Found guilty of murdering his wife Joanna in October 1881. Sentenced to death by hanging. Associated with individual named 'Beaumont'. Numerous references to this person in diary. Connected to other mentions of Beaumont in Solomon Island history? Diary also references important papers regarding Blue Ridge Mine located in mansion, but papers appear to have been hidden. Our agents must have been unable to retrieve. Devore Mansion has recently been sold to E. Franklin. _

So E. Franklin in Devore Mansion, huh? A good lead to follow, if we ever manage to get out of here. As if she had somehow sensed my negativity, Priscilla spoke up. "Hey, don't worry about it. We're gonna get out of here. Just you wait and see."

"Right." I said unemotionally as I took the card and stuffed it into the back pocket of my jeans. We continued on our not-so-merry way, past dusty grimoires on bookshelves and faded blue carpets, until we reached the other end of the archives. Four Illuminati pyramids inscribed within circles stood side by side in front of a bookshelf, and I smiled a little as I saw the magic within the chalk used to draw them.

Priscilla stepped into one of the circles, and I felt her pump anima into her feet for the chalk beneath her shoes to glow blue. She did this three more times to each of the other circles, until the bookshelf rumbled backwards and slid aside into the wall to reveal a secret passageway. I then glanced to see Priscilla grin me. "See? What did I tell you? Now come on — we gotta get back at Beaumont for shanking you."

At this, I actually grinned back at her. "Right. Let's get me some payback."

* * *

"Caution is advised going forward." Sonnac's voice spoke over the speaker of Priscilla's phone. "Now that Beaumont is aware of your involvement, he will be like a cornered lion, and he will most likely not be so merciful the next time around."

"Yes, sir." Priscilla and I both intoned, and with a nod from Priscilla, I spoke to Sonnac. "Sir, there's something we've got to tell you. When we were in the archives, Beaumont came _very _close to killing me with a stab to the heart. I probably would've died if it weren't for an artifact left behind by him that he was unaware of..."

"...Please explain." Sonnac spoke after a pause. It wasn't a request. I began to elaborate on my experience with "Avalon", and Sonnac stayed quiet until I had finished. "Interesting... That artifact could prove useful in your search, but regardless, exercise care, and try to find out what the warlock is up to. I do not wish to find out if the artifact will work its magic a second time.

"The sword is still your prime objective. We do not know what it is yet, or what it can do, but it is almost certainly of great value. Our top researcher, Gladstone is deep in the bowels of Temple Hall as we speak, digging through the lost libraries. In the meantime, treat this as a learning experience. You live, you learn, and, hopefully, you grow into better soldiers. Good hunting to you both."

"Yes, sir." Priscilla and I intoned one last time before Sonnac ended the call.


	25. Dawning of an Endless Night - Tier 10

As Priscilla and I approached the Devore Mansion, it looked like it had seen better days. Old and faded paint that could've been almost any color was chipping away from the prehistoric wooden planks, and the house groaned as the wind blew. The ancient porch creaked as we stepped onto it, and as we paused in front of the front door, I asked, "You think anyone's home?"

As if on cue, the front door opened to reveal an old woman, dressed in a very nice sweater and pair of trousers. "Good morning, you two."

"Good morning, ma'am." I said, acting as if she hadn't taken me by surprise. "My name is Chase Mercer, and this is Priscilla Ross. We, uh… came by to check out the house. I-If you don't mind, of course."

"Don't mind at all." The old woman said as she held the old door open for us. "Come in, come in, and the name's Eleanor Franklin. I was just about to start making lunch."

Not wanting to be a burden, I volunteered to help Mrs. Franklin in the kitchen, and she accepted my offer. Within half an hour, there was a jug of milk sitting on the table next to two plates, one with green apples and the other with roast beef sandwiches of my creation. Years of being left home alone have allowed me to refine sandwich-making down to an art form, and after inhaling my third or fourth sandwich, I remembered to breathe and engage our host in conversation. "You look nice, Mrs. Franklin. Were you expecting company?"

"Why, thank you, dear — they're Saks Fifth Avenue." Mrs. Franklin said. "As for my company, well… My husband told me to expect you two, so I threw on the glad rags."

Priscilla and I exchanged glances as Mrs. Franklin stared out the big French window of the sitting room. "I used to take any excuse to socialize, threw the best parties this backwards island has ever seen. But that coach turned into a pumpkin a long, long time ago."

"It must be pretty lonely out here all alone." I remarked as I gulped down my glass of milk before I could choke on my bite of roast beef. Mrs. Franklin just shrugged as she looked back at us.

"Eh, not really. I share this old pile with all my cats and all the ghosts. I even moved the furniture down to give them the run of the upstairs, and the view from those big windows…" Mrs. Franklin sighed again as she stared out the window again. "Oh, it was a peach of a view when I shared it with my husband Ed, but the peach trees are rotten through now."

"So do you know anything about… the Blue Ridge Mine?" Priscilla asked cautiously, and she bit into and chewed on her apple as Mrs. Franklin sighed again, turning her head to stare down at the white milk in her glass.

"Well… things started changing back in that cold, cold summer of '71 — even before the ruckus with the Indians over that damned hole in the ground. Something happened up there, and it started eating away at Ed, but he wouldn't admit to it. When he came home — if he came home at _all_ — he shut himself in his study with all the books and maps. And then there was the incident with the Indians…"

Priscilla and I kept our mouths shut as Mrs. Franklin monologued, her eyes staring past the glass and table. "Ed didn't need to kill anyone — it was self-defense, but he was tormented by it. He couldn't sleep, suffered night terrors. He'd stay up all ways scribbling in his books, on magazine covers, on the table cloths, on the walls. I could hear this incessant scratching in the dead of the night. After a while I stopped asking him to come back to bed. I never did figure out where he kept all that writing.

"When his crew was found dead in the mine, it was the straw the broke the camel's back, so to speak. I found him hanging in the attic, his face was the color of a ripe plum. But that's not how I remember him, not how I want to remember him. He was a good man, my Ed. A good husband. A good friend.

"There's no shortage of secrets in this house, but Ed lost his way and his mind. Says he wants to know how to put it all together, but he's just broken memories now. None of them good. Says the dreams came through and ate him up, and unless something is done, they'll eat us all. Says it's all in here somewhere, but he can't remember where."

We were silent for awhile, save for the sounds of us slowly crunching, chewing, and swallowing our food. As I finished off the last of the milk in my glass, I stood up from my seat on the couch and wiped my mouth clean. "Thank you for telling us, Mrs. Franklin. It must've been hard for you. If you don't mind, we'd like to search the house."

"Go ahead." Mrs. Franklin said, and Priscilla got up from her seat in order to follow me out of the sitting room. I paused for a moment in front of one particular painting just outside the sitting room. It depicted a red-skinned horned demon with leathery wings and a face on its stomach flying above people burning in the great maw of some great beast. Above the demon was a twisty scroll with words printed on it.

IN INFERNO NVLLA-EST REDEMPTIO

"There is no redemption in hell." Priscilla said aloud, and I glanced out of the corner of my eye at her in mild surprise.

"I'm taking Latin back in London." Priscilla explained. "_Latina lingua mortua est, mortua quam maxime. Prima necavit Romanos et nunc necat me._ The Latin language is dead, as dead as it can be. First, it killed the Romans, and now it's killing me."

I laughed at that as I laid a hand onto the golden picture frame, and on a hunch, I pulled the painting towards me to reveal the threshold of a hidden room. As Priscilla shut the painting door behind me, I switched on my flashlight in order to have a look around. Paper rustled as I stepped onto them, and an entire wall of the room had been devoted to papers yellowed with age, whose cursives I couldn't read. Opposite the wall of paper was a bookshelf filled to the brim with books, and a giant globe depicting the world sat next to a desk and chair.

Atop the desk was a small, unadorned metal box, and to my surprise, it opened fairly easily, the difficulty coming from how long it had been since the box had last opened. Inside was a yellowed paper whose bottom corner seemed to have had some honey spilled on it. Tapping into my sixth sense, I could smell a hint of machine oil from within the stain, and I shone my flashlight onto the scribbled letters of the page.

_No Good. No God. No saving me now from what's waiting under Blue Ridge, deep down in the Deep Shaft locked away. Oh, Ellie, you don't understand what a man works on in here, down there. Been so busy, me and the man I shot dead. Me and all the dead men, the vikings and braves, our honeyed ancestors…_

"Vikings? Braves? Honeyed ancestors?" I wondered aloud as Priscilla came to look at the page over my shoulder. "The heck?"

Priscilla took the page away from me, and after studying it for a moment, she folded it up and stuffed it into her pocket. "I don't get it either, but it's clear to see that whatever drove Mr. Franklin to madness, it's in the Blue Ridge Mines. Let's go, Chase."


	26. An Apology

p style="margin: 0px 0px 12px; font-family: Verdana; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"As of April 15th, 2015, this account will no longer be active. Why, you may ask? Well, it's because I want to take my fan fiction more seriously from now on, to make it more than just something to waste time on during the weekends, as that was the case back when I started this, say, four years ago? Looking back on those times, I don't feel good knowing that I left stories like emPirate's Legacy/em and emAssassin's Creed: Wings of Freedom/em high and dry. I feel like I haven't been writing as well as I emknow /emI can, and I feel like starting fresh with a new account here on the site is the way to go. Don't worry about this account getting deleted - I'll still keep it up, but just don't expect to see me on here anymore./p  
p style="margin: 0px 0px 12px; font-family: Verdana; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"As for the future of emCrux Ferimus/em, I'll most likely be re-uploading, new and improved, with more original writing and effort put into it, and who knows? Maybe I'll write up a new emBorderlands /emfic to go along with it. /p  
p style="margin: 0px 0px 12px; font-family: Verdana; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"Thank you for your support. My new profile can be found by clicking on the link in my profile page. /p 


End file.
